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ERNEST CARROLL, 


OR 




ARTIST-LIFE IN ITALY. 


A NOVEL. 


IN THREE PARTS. 






BOSTON: 

TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 

M DCCC LVIII. 


t 


author’s edition. 

Gift 

w.l*. 

^ 7 S ’06 


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RIVERSIDE, Cambridge: 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED 

/ 


B Y 


H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY 


CONTENTS. 


PART L— VENICE. 

• PAGE 

Chapter i. the art student in Venice 9 

Chapter ii. palazzo zerlinski 18 

Chapter iii. the portrait 32 

Chapter iv. the secret chamber 61 

Chapter v. the denouement 78 

PART IL— FLORENCE. ■ 

Chapter i. caffe doney •' 95 

Chapter ii. the academy 123 

Chapter hi. allston 138 

Chapter iv. a challenge 166 

Chapter v. an apology 181 

Chapter vi. the man of feeling 193 

Chapter vii. art gossip 207 

PART III.-AUSTRIA AND ITALY IN 1847-8. 

Chapter i. Vienna 231 

Chapter ii. life at graefenberg 243 


IV 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE 

Chapter III. a literary marchesa 2G7 

Chapter iv. regeneration of italy 282 

Chapter v. Vienna revisited 312 

Chapter vi. conclusion 334 

Note 343 


PREFACE. 


An English work of fiction, with an Ameri- 
can hero, may claim at least the attraction of 
novelty. During a long residence on the Con- 
tinent, the Author derived great pleasure from 
the acquaintance of several American friends, 
many of whom were professional artists. 

To them he is indebted for most of the con- 
versation and anecdotes which form so large 
a portion of this volume. Their character 
naturally suggested the propriety of making 
the prominent person in the book an Ameri- 
can Artist. 

The Author was pained and surprised to 
hear it remarked by one of his friends, that it 
was a rare occurrence to meet with an Eng- 
lish novel, without some sneer at Americans, 


6 


PREFACE. 


or ridicule of their habits, manners, and insti- 
tutions. Subsequent observation has proved 
that the charge is too well founded. 

Our writers, catering to national prejudices, 
are not content with speaking of everything 
English as the standard of perfection, but per- 
vert facts, and paint with false colors all that 
relates to other countries. 

The preceding English generation lived and 
died in the firm belief that the French were a 
vain, frivolous, fiddling and dancing people, at 
a time when they were doing more for science, 
philosophy, and art, than any other nation in 
Europe. 

He has therefore thought it but fair to show 
his countrymen the light in which they are 
viewed by strangers on the Continent, and in 
America, and would submit to their sense of 
justice and decorum whether such animadver- 
sions upon our kinsmen are in good taste, or 
likely to promote that kindly feeling so desira- 
ble between two nations, allied by consanguin- 
ity and by common interests. 

Athen^um Club, 

London, July 1, 1858. 


PART I 


VENICE. 




ERNEST CARROLL, 

OR 

ARTIST-LIFE IN ITALY. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ART STUDENT IN VENICE. 

The reader is invited to accompany us on a 
visit to foreign lands. No fatigue of travel, no 
privations, hardships, or preparations for a long 
absence, are required ; but, by a flight more 
rapid than that of the wonderful magic horse 
related by the fair Scheherezade, the journey is 

performed in a single instant, and, lo ! we 

are on the western waters of the Adriatic. 


I 


10 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


It is a lovely evening in August. It has 
been a hot day in Venice, but after sunset a 
light breeze has sprung up, rippling the waters 
of the Adriatic and bringing life and refresh- 
ing coolness to the Venetians. At a short 
distance from the island of San Giorgio a 
gondola is gaily skimming along toward the 
Piazza San Marco. Within is seated a young 
American, whose air, bearing, and dress denote 
him of good family, education, and fortune. 
His costume, consisting of a Lombard hat, 
loose cravat, black velvet paletot, and white 
pantaloons, savor rather of the elegance of ar- 
tistic negligence than of the servility or pre- 
cision of fashion. Having introduced Ernest 
Carroll as our hero, we shall now drop the 
present tense, for what we are about to re- 
count took place in the summer of 1847 . 

“ Ars longa^ vita brevis est,’ said our hero 
musingly, “ the student of art no sooner masters 
one difficulty than another rises before him ; 
he plants his foot exultingly on what appears 
to him the summit of the mountain, and lo ! 
a higher Alp appears in the distance to dis- 
hearten him, or to lure him onward. Three 
years close application have enabled me to 


THE ART STUDENT IN VENICE. 


11 


draw accurately and to paint from the life 
when my model is before me, yet how fee- 
ble is my hand when it undertakes to give 
expression to imagination or to paint from 
memory. I am like a beginner in music, who 
can only play with his notes before him. The 
face of that fair Venetian haunts me like a 
dream ; with my eyes closed I see every fea- 
ture as plainly as if it were sculptured in 
marble, but when I attempt to fix her image 
on the canvas the features are there, but where 
are the soul and expression ? The aroma has 
evaporated, the dregs only remain. Perhaps I 
have undertaken too much in endeavoring to 
paint her in a character and attitude different 
from that in which I see her in public — but 
there is something so queenlike in her bear- 
ing that I can only think of her as a Cleopatra. 
What classic features, what brilliancy of com- 
plexion and grace of bearing. I must watch 
her expression once more at the opera to- 
night and renew my attempts to-morrow.” 

By this time, the whole army of stars was 
duly marshalled in the heavens, and Venice, 
brilliantly illuminated, was mapped out, a glo- 
rious constellation of art upon the earth. The 


12 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


gondola had reached the mole, and young 
Carroll, having paid a double fee, slowly bent 
his steps towards his lodgings. As he was pass- 
ing under the colonnade of the Ducal Palace, 
a lad in livery, emerging from an obscure cor- 
ner, presented to him a note. 

“ What is this ? ” asked he in some sur- 
prise. 

“ jE’ per le% Eccellenza^'^ replied the youth, 
bowing, and before any other question could 
be put to him he had vanished. 

Mentally addressing the unknown writer he 
asked, “ Art thou some fair Cyprian who 
wouldst lure me for thy gallant, or some noble 
dame in search of a cavaliere servente ? In 
either case, I have neither time nor inclina- 
tion for such follies — perhaps I have mistaken 
thy sex, and thou art some worthless profli- 
gate who begs by night to waste the day in 
idleness and debauchery. I have been too 
often deceived by tales of distress to be 
easily duped again. ” He was on the point 
of tossing the note into the canal, when it 
occurred to him that he could do so if on 
examination the contents should confirm his 
suspicions. 


THE ART STUDENT IN VENICE. 


13 


Arriving at his lodgings, he immediately 
struck a light, and drew from his breast- 
pocket the mysterious missive. It was an 
envelope of rose-colored paper, bearing no 
superscription, but daintily sealed by the im- 
press of a coronet. He broke the seal, and 
found written, in a delicate female hand, the 
following : 

“ Sympathy is the pearl of life, deprived 
of it existence becomes a worthless shell. 

“ It is a flower which the nearest relatives 
may cultivate for years without success, while 
sometimes strangers find it blooming unex- 
pectedly in their path. 

“ It is the Promethean spark which warms 
into being what before was cold and lifeless, 
the true fire from heaven which one rather 
than not possess would suffer torture. 

“ The writer of these lines, impelled by 
circumstances and feelings which can only be 
explained by conversation, desires an inter- 
view. 

“ Believing herself to have been appointed 
by Divine Providence as your special guardian 
angel, she has accepted the mission with 
joy and sincerity. 


14 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ At some more propitious moment her 
wishes may assume a definite and tangible 
form. Cleopatra.” 

“ What carnival buffoonery is this,” said he, 
petulantly throwing the note upon his table. 
“ But stay, if thou art my guardian angel, and 
art present, thou shalt see that I can at least 
receive the assurance of thy good will gal- 
lantly.” 

So saying he took up the note and re- 
spectfully pressed it to his lips, and was sur- 
prised at the power and fragrance of its per- 
fume. His warm breath, reflected from the 
paper, seemed to rise like a delicious vapor, 
ascending to the brain, creating a succession 
of most agreeable sensations and pleasing 
images. A rosy cloud filled the apartment, 
it gradually condensed, and lo the fair un- 
known, whose portrait he had so often at- 
tempted in vain to paint, sat smiling before 
him. The effect of this species of mental 
intoxication was as fleeting as it was vivid. 
The vision vanished, and Carroll was now 
aware that he had been in a peculiar and 
abnormal condition. “ Are there such things 


THE ART STUDENT IN VENICE. 


15 


as philters or love perfumes,” said he, “ or has 
my imagination been unduly excited by the 
powerful fragrance of this odor ? I have 
doubtless applied myself too closely of late, 
and have need of relaxation. A V Opera ! ” * 

To throw off his morning’s neglige and 
substitute a fashionable costume more appro- 
priate to the occasion, was the work of a few 
moments. Ten minutes after he was seated 
in his box at the opera levelling his glass 
at that occupied by the fair Venetian. Her 
back was turned towards him and he en- 
deavored in vain to get a glimpse of her 
face during the performance. Presently he 
was startled by a low tap at the door of 
his box. 

“ Come in,” said he, “ some one has made 
a mistake.” 

The identical youth who had presented him 
with a note at the Ducal Palace entered, 
closed the door, and, bowing, said in a low 
voice, “ La Signora Cleopatra sends her 
compliments and requests the pleasure of 
your company this evening at supper.” 


* See note at the end of the volume. 


16 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Who is the Signora Cleopatra,” asked 
Carroll in some surprise. 

“ Your Excellency can learn that from the 
lady herself, son proibito di parlareP 

A moment’s indecision on the part of our 
hero followed. “ Can you tell me,” said he, 
“ who am a stranger here, the name of the 
lady opposite, who is about to leave her box ? ” 

“ That,” said the youth, after a moment’s 
hesitation, “ is la mia padrona^ the Princess 
Zerlinski.” 

Was it possible that Cleopatra and the 
Princess Zerlinski were one and the same 
person? Cleopatra’s note was sealed with a 
coronet, and the bearer spoke of the princess 
as his mistress. A crowd of doubts and in- 
quiries was filling his mind, when they were 
interrupted by a remark from the servant in 
waiting : 

“ Your Excellency has not yet deigned to 
answer my message.” 

‘‘ I will follow you,” said he ; and throw- 
ing on his cloak left the opera house, fol- 
lowed the youth, until they came to the 
square of St. Mark, thence to the grand 
canal, where a gondola was in waiting. 


THE ART STUDENT IN VENICE. 


17 


“ O Giacomo ! ” shouted the young servant. 
“ Eccomi,” was the reply of the gondolier 
bearing the same livery with his guide. As 
soon as they were on board, our hero seated 
within, the guide respectfully standing by the 
doorway, “ A casa^"^ was the order given. 


2 


18 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


CHAPTER 11. 

PALAZZO ZERLINSKI. 

As the gondola was sweeping along the 
waters of the grand canal, Carroll had time for 
reflections, which were not altogether of the 
most agreeable kind. Was it not an act of 
great imprudence to entrust himself to the 
guidance of an entire stranger? He had ac- 
cepted an invitation to sup with some one 
whom perhaps he had never seen. Circum- 
stances had led him to infer that this person 
was the Princess Zerlinski? But had he not 
been too hasty in his inference ? Was it not 
much more probable that the writer of the note 
was some Abigail in the service of the princess, 
and that his young guide was a wily accom- 
plice ? 

Again, it occurred to him that his close scru- 
tiny of the person of the princess at the opera 
might have been observed by others and its 


PALAZZO ZERLINSKI. 


19 


motive misconstrued. What if a jealous hus- 
band or lover had, in a fit of resentment, sworn 
to make him the victim of a ridiculous or per- 
haps cruel hoax? In case the gondola should 
stop at any mean or suspicious looking dwell- 
ing, he determined to refuse to enter under any 
pretext whatever. 

There was no occasion for this last suspicion 
however, for at this very moment the gondola 
pulled up at the steps of one of the largest and 
most elegant palaces of the grand canal. It 
was a perfect gem of Palladian architecture, 
which had frequently attracted Carroll’s atten- 
tion. In fact he had, within the last week, 
spent an hour or two in sketching it from his 
gondola, and making careful studies of some 
architectural details. 

Following his guide, he mounted the steps, 
crossed a large, well-lighted hall, redolent of 
orange and citron trees, and thence to a noble 
flight of marble stairs richly covered with thick 
Turkey carpeting. This stairway led to a long 
gallery, filled with paintings and statues on one 
side, and lighted by a group of Venetian win- 
dows on the other. 

The young domestic opened a door, and 


20 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


motioned to Carroll to enter. He hesitated for 
a moment, but observing that the room was 
brilliantly illuminated, and that a small table, 
laid for supper, occupied the centre, he entered, 
and the door was gently closed behind him — 
and he found himself alone. 

The apartment struck Carroll as the most 
elegant he had ever seen ; exquisite in the 
symmetry of its proportions, it was furnished in 
a style regally splendid. The vaulted ceiling 
glowed with brilliant fresco coloring, which the 
young painter’s practised eye immediately rec- 
ognized as the work of Giorgione. The walls 
were hung with crimson satin which formed an 
admirable background to about a dozen exqui- 
site pictures, each of which was a gem worthy 
a cabinet by itself. To the artist’s eye it 
seemed that nothing could be more attractive 
than the perfect harmony of coloring and exqui- 
site taste which characterized this saloon ; but it 
was soon eclipsed by the opening of a door, and 
the entrance of the princess herself. 

The Princess Zerlinski was, by general con- 
sent, the handsomest woman in all Venice. In 
her person she was of the average height and 
size — a classically shaped head was joined to 


PALAZZO ZERLINSKI. 


21 


matchless shoulders by a neck which, columnar 
in its form and proportions, had the grace and 
flexibility of that of a swan — a low-necked 
black velvet dress, trimmed with white lace, 
contrasted finely with the hue of her rich 
southern complexion — and a profusion of raven 
tresses were elegantly braided and interwoven 
with strings of large-sized pearls. He must have 
been a cool observer who could decide whether 
her bearing owed its attraction most to dignity 
or grace, or whether her person charmed most 
by the perfection of its form or the richness of 
its embonpoint. The juste milieu reigned over 
all so supreme, that Carroll felt that it had, like 
a burning-glass, brought the full blaze of her 
beauty into that precise focus which instantly 
kindles admiration and love. 

“ How very kind of you,” said she, cordially 
extending her hand, “ to accept an invitation 
given so unceremoniously, and I might add,” 
said she, smiling, “ mysteriously, if not suspi- 
ciously.” 

Taking the proffered hand, Carroll gallantly 
raised it to his lips, according to the fashion of 
the country, and observed that the smallest and 


22 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


plumpest of hands boasted a dimple at the base 
of each rosy-pointed taper finger. 

“ I am curious to know,” said she, “ what 
motive influenced you ; confess to me frankly 
and candidly, was it mere benevolence and a 
desire to please, or had curiosity and a little 
mixture of self-love a share in determining 
you? You see I am beginning early to play 
the confessor.” 

“ Madam,” replied Carroll, who had now re- 
gained his self-possession, “ I am a stranger in 
Venice — I am almost a stranger in the world. 
Three years ago I lost a sainted mother, the last 
tie which bound me to earth. I am a student 
of art, and have long been deprived of the 
pleasure of female society. Your kind note of 
this morning gave me the pleasing hope of hav- 
ing obtained sympathy, counsel, and advice, 
before I had done any thing to merit such good- 
ness — from so unexpected a quarter. I believe 
I have the honor of addressing the Princess 
Zerlinski.” 

“ The Princess Zerlinski is delighted to make 
the acquaintance of Signor ” 

She paused for him to fill up the blank. 

‘‘ Ernest Carroll.” 


PALAZZO ZERLINSKI. 


23 


“ You are doubtless curious to know why I 
should have taken any interest in you ; pray be 
seated, I have much to say to you.” 

So saying, she conducted him to a sofa, 
seated herself, and motioned to Carroll to take 
a place by her side. 

“ You must know,’’ said she, “ that I, like 
you, have had my sorrows and bereavements. 
Just three years ago, perhaps on the very day 
when death took from you your mother, I lost 
a husband and a dear brother, in whom all my 
hopes and affections were centred. From that 
day the world has seemed to me a blank. Hap- 
pening to meet you about a fortnight ago, I was 
immediately struck by a wonderful resemblance 
to my poor brother Ernesto, (for that was his 
name as well as yours.) There was something 
mysterious, if not miraculous, in the manner of 
our first meeting. I was at my devotions in a 
church where you were sketching from an altar- 
piece by Titian. On my knees, I had prayed to 
our Holy Mother to assuage my sorrows, and 
to bring comfort to my poor heart. No sooner 
was my prayer finished than a feeling of joy 
and beatific resignation took possession of my 
bosom. On raising my eyes a heavenly vision 


24 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


of my brother’s form and features floated be- 
fore them. The last rays of the sun, streaming 
through a painted window, illuminated your 
features, and your long study of the picture 
enabled me to scan them closely. Never was 
Tesemblance more perfect. Ernesto was some- 
what younger than you, but in you I seemed to 
behold my dear brother, matured and developed 
into manhood. As you turned to leave the 
church, I felt that a heavenly visitor was depart- 
ing. Since that day I have had the good fortune 
to meet you daily, and every day has increased 
my desire to see you face to face, and to con- 
verse with you. If I have seemed too bold, I 
trust that what I have related may excuse me 
in your eyes, and spare me the mortification of 
being misunderstood.” 

“ Madam,” said Carroll, ‘‘ words cannot ex- 
press the pride and pleasure I feel in the singu- 
lar occurrence of an event which has procured 
me the honor of such distinguished kindness.” 

“ Your voice, also, is so like that of Ernesto — 
ah ! the illusion is perfect, do not destroy it by 
refusing me a brother’s affection.” 

Although the princess was in the prime of 
youth and beauty, her age not exceeding that 


PALAZZO ZERLmSKI. 


25 


of our hero by more than two or three summers, 
there was something so condescending, kind, 
and sisterly in the tenderness of her manner, that 
Carroll was not at all surprised at the warmth 
of his reception. He was a young man not 
merely of good habits and principles, but he 
had guarded the purity of his heart with all the 
devotion of a woman. He received her greet- 
'' ing, therefore, as a brother, and regarded the 
gentle and affectionate giver with all the purity 
of a brother’s eyes. 

“ I firmly believe,” continued the princess, 
‘‘that God has foreordained our meeting, that I 
may counsel and assist you, and that you may 
cheer and console me by your presence and 
friendship. My first care shall be to study in 
what way I can further your designs and pro- 
mote your interests. You tell me you are a 
painter. Cosa fa di hello addesso ? What work 
are you now engaged upon ? ” 

“ I have had the audacity to commence a 
portrait, for which your Highness has been an 
unconscious sitter at the opera. It is a singular 
coincidence, that I undertook io paint you in 
the character of a Cleopatra, the very name 
which you assumed in your note to me of this 
morning.” 


26 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ How delightfully romantic,” said she, gayly 
clapping her hands; “but, Ernesto, you must not 
call me your Highness, call me by my own name, 
Sofia, as my brother always did. If you think 
my features worthy of your study I will sit to 
you. I hope you do not paint rapidly. I would 
have long, long sittings. To do yourself justice, 
you must see as much as possible of me — you 
must watch my motions and expression at all 
times, whether I am sitting to you or moving 
about the room. For this purpose you must be 
content to take up your abode here — I have it 
all arranged — ^look at the apartment I propose 
for you.” 

Rising, she tripped towards a door at one 
side of the saloon, and ushered him into a lofty 
and most luxuriously furnished bedroom, which 
seemed worthy to receive a prince. 

“ This was my dear brother’s room ; how do 
you like it ? ” 

“ How can I express my gratitude for such 
generous hospitality ? ” 

“ By simply saying, thank you Sofia ; that 
will do very well.” 

“ To-morrow, Antonio, the lad who conducted 
you hither, shall bring whatever you require 


PALAZZO ZERLINSKI. 


27 


from your lodgings. He will answer your bell, 
and wait upon you only. In the mean time 
you will find my brother’s linen and wardrobe 
ready at hand. No more thanks, but come to 
supper.” 

Returning to the parlor, she rung a bell, and a 
middle aged female domestic entered, bringing 
in supper. 

“ Giannetta,” said she, “ this gentleman is an 
artist, who is to paint my portrait. As his time 
is valuable, and his stay in Venice uncertain, he 
is to occupy the west chamber during the time 
he is employed by me. See that nothing is 
wanting. You need not wait.” 

“ Sara ubbedita^^^ replied the servant, curtesy- 
ing and retiring. 

When seated at table, the choice and exquis- 
ite viands which were kindly and hospitably 
pressed upon Carroll, formed the least attrac- 
tive part of the banquet. His eyes feasted on 
the grace and beauty of his fair hostess ; not 
a gesture escaped his attention, and her words 
fell upon his ear like a strain of music, of the 
import of which he was scarcely aware, feeling 
only that it was laden with kindness and af- 
fection. Completely absorbed, and lost, for a 


28 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


moment, in a reverie, suddenly starting, “ I 
ask a thousand pardons,” said he, “for my 
absence of mind. I can only account for it by 
the warmth of the weather occasioning an 
unusual languor and debility.” 

“ I am aware that I am becoming prosy,” 
said the princess, good humoredly. “ I have 
crowded a life of pleasure into a few short 
hours. We have both need of repose.” 

She rung the bell, and Giannetta entered, 
placing a pair of wax candles upon a side- 
table. 

“ La Camera del Signore e pronta^’’ said she, 
and taking up the tray on which she had gath- 
ered the remains of the repast, left the room. 

“ Before we retire,” said the princess, “ I must 
show you a few art-treasures, which you can 
examine some other time at your leisure.” 

She led him to a large antique cabinet of 
ebony, mosaic, and mother-of-pearl. Opening 
one of the drawers, “ This silver hunting-bell,” 
said she, “ is the work of Benvenuto Cellini ; 
observe what grace of design and exquisite 
execution. This drinking cup of gold, enam- 
elled with jewels, is also from his hand. It 
was a bridal present to one of my ancestors. 


PALAZZO ZERLINSKI. 


29 


It is hard to decide whether the exquisite 
sculptures which adorn it, or the harmonious 
colors of the precious stones, contribute most 
to its beauty; form and color, the sculptor’s 
and painter’s specialties, seem here to have 
gone hand in hand. Observe this large antique 
seal ring ; it is a superb head of the Apollo — 
the stone is a sapphire. The intaglio is polished 
in every part ; I have been assured that this art 
has been lost, and the work is ascribed to a 
Greek artist, dating back many years previous to 
the birth of our blessed Redeemer.” 

Drawer after drawer was opened, and Carroll 
glanced hastily at treasures which promised to 
reward hours and hours of study. 

“ Here is something which is of no use to me, 
but may be of service to you in the prosecution 
of your studies.” She touched a secret spring, 
and a lid rose, disclosing a drawer filled with 
gold coin. “ This is the surplus of my last 
quarter’s income — take it, and oblige me by so 
doing.” 

“ I thank you, with all my heart,” replied 
Carroll, somewhat proudly, “ for your generous 
offer; but, I assure you, I have no occasion for it. 
My fortune is more than ample for my wants. 


30 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


and I should devote much more of it to charity 
were it not for the scarcity of deserving objects.’’ 

“ You are rich, then ; I am sorry for it. I 
have nothing, then, to bestow upon you but my 
esteem and friendship.” 

“ Which I shall prize beyond the wealth of 
the Indies,” replied Carroll, taking a light in his 
hand. 

“ Felice notte^ Ernesto,” said the princess, with 
a smile. 

^‘Felice notte^ Sofia,” said Carroll, bowing, 
and retiring. 

On retiring to rest, Carroll, closing his eyes, 
began to reflect on the strangeness of his situa- 
tion. By what art of magic had he been con- 
veyed to the palace of a beautiful enchantress ? 
Two short weeks only had passed since he, for 
the first time, had seen a lady whose beauty so 
forcibly captivated him that he had dreamed 
away the hours since in endeavoring to fix upon 
canvas the fleeting image reflected by his mem- 
ory. At this moment he was domesticated under 
her roof, on the footing not only of a friend but 
a brother. He rapidly reviewed the events of the 
last few hours — he recalled to memory every 
word that had fallen from her lips, and every 


PALAZZO ZERLINSKI. 


31 


glance which she had bestowed upon him. In 
the language of the Eastern poets, “ his bosom 
expanded with joy, and his heart became di- 
lated.’’ Gradually, the thoughts and images 
passing through his mind formed new and 
strange combinations. Fantastic forms seemed 
to float around him until the dark curtain of 
sleep slowly closed before his vision, and he 
sunk into a sweet, gentle, and refreshing slum- 
ber. 


32 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE PORTRAIT. 

While making his toilette, the next morning, 
Carroll was surprised at the sumptuous elegance 
of his lodgings. The walls were hung with a 
light green Genoese velvet; the window cur- 
tains and bed hangings of rich brocade satin, 
of the same color with their gilded cornices, 
would have formed admirable subjects for the 
pencil of Mieris ; the pillow-cases, trimmed with 
antique lace, might have excited the covetous- 
ness of a Parisian belle ; an ample ewer and 
basin of silver were flanked by a flask of rose- 
water, which imparted a delightful softness and 
fragrance to the cool water. 

“ My worthy predecessor and namesake,’’ 
thought Ernest, “ must have been a perfect 
Sybarite in his toilette to require such a variety 
of articles, in the manufacture of which the 
choicest workmanship and most costly material 
seem to have been exhausted.” 


THE PORTRAIT. 


Throwing open a long window opposite to 
his bed, he saw that it opened upon the flat 
roof of a colonnade, surrounding three sides of 
a quadrangle — the fourth being formed by the 
arm of the palace itself. The roof was paved 
with variegated marble, and the sides were 
protected by a massive marble balustrade, the 
pedestals of which were ornamented by statues 
and vases of flowering plants alternately. The 
space inclosed by this promenade was a large 
garden filled with fruit and flowering trees. The 
birds were singing gayly, and the air was loaded 
with fragrance. What wealth must have been 
required not merely to construct such an estab- 
lishment, but maintain it! There was no ap- 
pearance of neglect or decay, so common in 
many Italian palaces, but all was as bright, 
fresh, and orderly as might have been in the 
days when Milton visited Italy. 

Having completed his toilette, Carroll gently 
unlocked and opened the door leading to the 
adjoining parlor, and paused a moment to 
observe the change in the attire of his fair 
hostess. 

She was seated, reading, at a table on which 
pen, ink, and paper were lying. If on the even- 

3 


34 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


ing previous she had seemed oppressively mag- 
nificent, she was now blooming with an elegance 
coquettishly simple. A loose morning-dress of 
pink muslin, open in front, was confined at the 
waist by a silken cord and tassel of the same 
color, showing that her figure owed none of its 
charms to the artificial aid of corsets or mantua- 
makers. Her hair was denuded of the jewels 
which had graced it before, but now “ simplex 
munditiis^^^ it was braided and bound up closely, 
giving a classical serenity to the beauty of her 
head, neck, and shoulders. No diamond brace- 
let flashed from her arm, the beauty of whose 
outline was heightened only by the soft cloud 
of rosy muslin in which it was imbedded. 

‘‘ She is altogether lovely,” thought Ernest, 
as he advanced towards her. 

“ Ben levato^ Ernesto,” said the princess, 
rising, extending her hand, and greeting him 
with the gayest of smiles. 

“ Buon giorno, Sofia,” said he, endeavoring to 
accustom himself to the style of address which 
she had imposed upon him. 

“ It is unnecessary to ask if you have reposed 
well,” remarked she, with a complimentary 
glance. 


THE PORTRAIT. 


35 


“ For ten long hours I have enjoyed the slum- 
ber of an infant, totally unconscious of the 
princely luxury which I have just been admir- 
ing.” ■ 

“ I am glad you like your apartment. I 
should be guilty of ostentation to deny that it 
is the best my house affords, and it is for that 
reason I have selected it for you. There is a 
tradition that the divine Raffaello once slept on 
that couch, and it is certain, from family records, 
that Vandyke was lodged in that apartment 
during the time he was painting ray great great- 
grandmother. But, apropos to painting, would 
it not be well for you to give Antonio an order 
for such articles as you may require from your 
studio, or apartments ? I presume an order will 
be necessary.” 

Carroll wrote a note to his servant, saying 
that he should be absent for a few days, and 
indicated some articles of his wardrobe to be 
packed in a trunk, and given to the bearer, 
together with one easel, some canvas, brushes, 
colors, &c. He gave the necessary address and 
instructions to Antonio, who, bowing respect- 
fully, with the usual phrase, mio padrone^ de- 
parted on his errand. 


36 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


‘‘ And now,” said the princess, “ a colazioneP 
Taking his arm, she followed Giannetta, bear- 
ing a silver tray containing a dejeuner service, 
to a room opening into a small apartment. 
Giannetta placed the tray upon a marble centre- 
table, drew up two chairs, and retired, closing 
the door. 

Carroll found himself in a small octagonal 
room, lighted from the ceiling ; each of the sides 
was formed by a lofty mirror, running from the 
skirting to the cornice ; a narrow gilt frame, 
surrounding each mirror, served to break the 
joints at the top, bottom, and sides. He was 
for a moment puzzled to imagine how they 
could have entered the boudoir, when it occurred 
to him that one of these mirrors was a practica- 
ble door, and formed, in fact, the back of the 
one in the parlor. 

“ We shall not be alone here,” said the 
princess, pointing to the multiplied reflections 
of the two occupants. “ See, how many happy 
faces are smiling around us ! ” 

‘‘ Ah, Sofia,” said Ernest, “ I could never 
choose between the infinite variety of views 
in which these mirrors reflect your person. 
What an emharras de choix ? ” 


THE PORTRAIT. 


37 


The princess, smiling, bowed a graceful ac- 
knowledgment of the compliment. 

“ I must trouble you with a few questions,” 
she said, handing him a cup of fragrant Mocha, 
“ which escaped my attention last evening. 
You are a stranger in Venice, you say — from 
what part of Italy do you come ? ” 

“ I am not an Italian.” 

With a look of extreme surprise, she asked, 
“ A Spaniard ? Not a Frenchman, nor an Eng- 
lishman — a German ? Russian ? No ? Then 
either a Pole or Hungarian.” 

“ Neither.” 

“ Then, of course, you dropped from the 
skies.” 

“ No ; I am an American.” 

“ An American ! how delightful ! How have 
you contrived to master our language so entirely 
as to lead me to suppose you were a Tuscan ? ” 

“ Effetto di tua bontd I am fond of the study 
of languages, and have devoted myself more 
particularly to that of the Italian, as the most 
beautiful of all written or spoken ones.” 

Of course you are familiar with the works 
of our poets and best writers ? ” 

“ I have devoted most of my attention to the 


38 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


works of your four great classic poets — Dante, 
Ariosto, Petrarch, and Tasso. Boccaccio is a 
name which is almost unmentionable in my 
own country, and with his writings I am totally 
unacquainted ; my mother warned me to ab- 
stain from the perusal of his books, as a Circean 
cup which degrades and transforms to brutes 
those who indulge in it. I observe, however, 
that among the statues which have lately been 
ordered to fill the niches of the Uffizii, at Flor- 
ence, one of Boccaccio is to be placed in com- 
pany with the great poets and artists of his day.” 

“ Boccaccio,” said the princess, “ would have 
been the sweetest poet of his age, were it not 
that licentiousness, like a loathsome reptile, 
lurks beneath the most fragrant flowers of his 
poesy. I consider him the most dangerous cor- 
rupter of youth and innocence — read him not, 
Ernesto, he is a treacherous Amphitryon, regal- 
ing his guests with the most delicate viands and 
choicest wines, which he gradually spices and 
strengthens until he intoxicates the brain, 
making it insensible to any pleasure save that 
of a sensual orgie. I have heard that, in his 
latter years, he deeply repented the publication 
of his Decamerone — he would gladly have sup- 


THE PORTRAIT. 


39 


pressed and destroyed it, but it was too late, the 
pernicious seeds were sown, and its poisonous 
flowers had infected Italy. I fear that, in 
another world, he must atone for many of the 
vices and crimes of his countrymen.” 

“ I cannot imagine a severer torture to his 
troubled soul,” said Ernest, “than to suppose 
him at present listening to the beautiful severity 
of your just condemnation.” 

“ Of all the poets you have mentioned, Pe- 
trarch is my favorite ; so varied in thought, so 
artistically musical in his language, so pure in 
his imagination, he gives me greater pleasure 
than the sublime Dante, the gay and imagina- 
tive Ariosto, or the academical Tasso — beyond 
all this his constancy shines over his head like a 
brilliant star in my imagination; but tell me,” 
said she, changing the subject, “ how you like 
this apartment ? It is one of my own design- 
ing.” 

“ If architecture be one of your accomplish- 
ments, I cannot give higher praise to this speci- 
men, than to say it is fully in accordance with 
the exquisite taste which reigns around you.” 

“ I would not arrogate too much credit to 
myself, when I say that I designed it ; the idea 


40 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


alone, was mine — the architect and artisans em- 
ployed by me must have the credit of its devel- 
opment and execution. I found great pleasure 
and amusement in watching its progress. It is 
very easy,” continued she, with a sigh, “ to exe- 
cute plans which require only money to purchase 
the requisite skill and talent ; how different must 
be the pleasure of an artist engaged in conceiv- 
ing and executing some great thought ! This is 
creation, the pleasure which we must suppose 
fills the mind of the Eternal Father when, in the 
variety of his creations, he gives expression to 
a harmonious variety of thought. When we 
consider the different stages of this earth, with 
the different races of animals and plants which 
have succeeded each other, as geologists teach 
us — when we learn, from the same source, that 
man was the last and crowning work of his 
hand, may we not reasonably infer that he is to 
be succeeded by a higher and nobler type of 
organization ? ” 

“ ‘ Mine eyes are made the fools o’ th’ other 
senses,’ ” quoted Carroll, “ unless I see before 
me a specimen of this new and angelic race ! ” 

The countenance of the fair hostess glowed 
with undisguised pleasure, on receipt of the 


THE POKTRAIT. 


41 


compliment, which, she remarked, “was ex- 
pressed with a delicacy and elegance truly 
Della Cruscan. I see that your education has 
not been neglected. Of course you are of a 
noble family ? ” 

“ In my country, the distinctions of rank 
which separates classes in Europe, are un- 
known to us. Our government is a republic, 
and those who framed its institutions, jealous 
of the power and influence of family, abolished 
all titles of nobility. To be born of a good 
family, to be able to trace one’s descent from 
ancestors who have been wealthy and educated, 
is naturally and justly considered a great dis- 
tinction. In this respect I may consider myself 
one of a privileged class. Wealth of course 
has its weight and influence in America as it 
has all over the world ; but wealth alone is not 
with us a passport to good society. A million- 
naire without talent or refinement would not be 
tolerated in the first society, whatever might be 
his importance on the Exchange. Talent, and 
its concomitant power and influence, is the 
highest mark of distinction. A well-educated 
American may console himself for the want of 
a title by reflecting that he is not a subject, but 


42 


EENEST CARROLL. 


a sovereign, and as those who administer public 
affairs are not his masters, but his servants, he 
may proudly hold up his head with any foreign 
, nobleman.” 

“ Tout de m^me^ had there been any nobles 
in your country you would have been one of 
them ? ” 

Ernest smiled to observe how little effect the 
American’s boast of sovereignty had in modify- 
ing the prejudices of those accustomed to a 
different order of things. 

“ I have heard and read much of your inter- 
esting country. I am told that its progress and 
changes are so rapid, that a European can 
hardly keep pace with its movements. I re- 
member having seen a porcelain vase, on 
which were delineated the figures of Europe, 
Asia, and Africa, each distinguished by an ap- 
propriate symbol. They were seated by the 
sea-shore, watching the approach of a strange 
vessel sailing from the setting sun. If the artist 
had been inspired to predict the discovery of 
your country, he could not have expressed his 
vaticination more significantly. You have al- 
ready given to the world steam and the electric 
telegraph ; you are a rich and powerful nation. 


THE POKTRAIT. 


43 


It only remains to be seen whether you are to 
develope a new order of civilization peculiar to 
yourselves, or whether, like the Romans, you 
are only to modify the arts and institutions of 
others. Descended as you are from the English, 
and speaking the same language, I am sur- 
prised to find how unlike them you are, Ernest! 
I am sure you cannot like or sympathize with 
them. The boasted beauty of girls, consisting 
of a thin skin and florid complexion, is a pre- 
cursor of grossness and obesity in the women. 
What taste in dress ! I am told that the Eng- 
lish ladies import all their fashions from Paris, 
only to make them ridiculous by their modifica- 
tion in London. And then their men ! what 
clownish, awkward, overgrown boobies they 
seem ! So arrogant and uncourteous in their 
bearing, so totally incapable of accommodating 
themselves to the habits or manners of strang- 
ers. I never see one of their great lubberly 
faces, all smoothly shaven and shorn, without 
being reminded (excuse the simile) of one of 
those pig’s faces which peep out upon you from 
a pork-shop in Bologna.” 

“ You do not dislike, then, the practice of 
wearing the beard ? ” 


44 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ I should as soon think of shaving off my 
eyebrows. What an effeminate affectation, to 
remove from the face the distinguishing mark of 
manly maturity. When the graceful curl of the 
youthful lip begins to disappear, the moustache 
gives it a new character and expression. I can- 
not believe that the Almighty made a blunder 
when he gave to man this distinctive feature — 
or that his work can be improved by all the 
razors in Sheffield.” 

“ Thus far,” replied he, “ I see the English 
very much with your eyes. We must do them 
the justice to allow that they are a great and 
powerful nation, and remember that we see the 
worst specimens on the continent. England 
can boast that she has brave sons and chaste 
daughters. All must look to her as the bulwark 
of liberty. The liberty of the press, and the due 
administration of justice, and the preservation 
of law and order, are the greatest boons ever 
granted to a people. If the Englishman is not 
eminent as an inventor, he shows uncommon 
skill in perfecting the inventions of others. The 
mechanic arts are by him brought to the highest 
point of excellence ; his manufactures defy all 
competition in every foreign mart ; above all, he 


THE PORTRAIT. 


45 


is honest, faithful, and true. The word of an 
English gentleman is as good as his bond, and 
he would scorn to tell a lie as the meanest and 
basest of actions.” 

“ Ah Ernest,” said she approvingly “ that 
virtue atones for many faults and weaknesses. 
If there be any thing I utterly detest, it is la 
menzogna.^'^ 

The reader must bear it in mind that the 
conversation we have above given was carried 
on in Italian, a language much more musical 
than our own, and capable of giving a 
delicacy to the turn of every thought and 
expression, of which it is impossible to convey 
an idea in a translation. The remarks of 
the hostess lost none of their charms by the 
manner of their delivery, and the young Amer- 
ican was mentally comparing them to “ apples 
of gold, set in pictures of silver f when ris- 
ing she remarked that their sitting at table 
had been protracted to a very late hour in 
the morning. Leading the way through the 
parlor, she conducted her guest to an apart- 
ment adjacent. Large, well filled bookcases 
occupied the walls at intervals, the spaces be- 
tween were decorated by pictures and statues. 


46 


EBNEST CARROLL. 


Above, suits of armour and warlike instru- 
ments were picturesquely grouped around the 
room. 

“ This library,” said she, “ has a single win- 
dow with a northern light which I believe you 
painters generally prefer. The shutters are so 
contrived that you can admit or exclude the 
light as you please. Here are your easel and 
painting materials. Antonio, I presume, has 
carried the rest of your articles to your cham- 
ber.” 

“ Mille grazie^ a thousand thanks. The light 
is admirable, and I propose to avail myself of 
the full benefit of it. Light generates color, 
and I have always thought it an error in our 
modern painters to exclude it from their studios 
till the face of the sitter is half lost in shadow. 
What they gain in chiaroscuro, is lost in 
color. I have often imagined that the pictures 
of the old Venetian masters, owe much of 
their breadth and brilliancy of color to their 
having been painted in large and well-lighted 
rooms.” 

After a hasty examination of some of the 
pictures, “ I am surprised, Sofia,” said he, “ at 
the richness of your art-treasures.” 


THE PORTRAIT. 


47 


“ They were formerly collected together in a 
large gallery, which was much visited by stran- 
gers. I found the study of them, placed in 
juxtaposition, very wearisome and fatiguing. 
I made a selection of my favorites, and found 
great occupation and amusement in arrang- 
ing them in appropriate situations, where they 
would appear to the best advantage. You, 
who are a judge, must tell me candidly, if any 
of them are of inferior merit.” 

“ Here is one, which seems, for many rea- 
sons, unworthy of a place here,” said he. 
“ Who is this simpering youth, holding in his 
hand a full blown rose?” 

“ It is a portrait of the artist, by himself. 
He was a pupil of Titian’s, famous, I believe, 
for his personal beauty and — gallantries.” 

“ So I should have inferred from the couplet 
which he has inscribed on the background 
of his portrait.” 

The princess read : 

Quid stupeas specie rosce Paphice^ ereptce. 
Quce si non erepta ipsa cadebaV 

“ Pray translate it for me. I do not un- 
derstand Latin.” 

“Excuse me, Sofia; the sentiment, though 


48 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


couched in language sufficiently delicate, is 
hardly fit for your ears.” 

“The picture you say, is of inferior merit?” 

“ It is even below mediocrity.” 

“ I have been surprised at the largeness of 
offers made to me for this picture. From 
what you say, I would sell it on no ac- 
count. This very day it shall be removed.”* 

“ It may be,” said Carroll, “ the portrait of 
that pupil of Titian, who in the fatuity of 
his vanity imagined that he had captivated 
the heart of a princess of great beauty and 
equal virtue. Seizing, as he thought, a favor- 
able opportunity in the dance, he asked, ‘ Se 
non e amor quel chHo sento^ che cosa mai 
sard ? ’ She contemptuously suggested that 
a flea in his ear might possibly be the cause 
of his discomfort.” 

“The reproof,” said she, “was justly but 
coarsely administered.” 

“ And yet, a more delicately pointed thrust 
at his vanity might have failed to kill it.” 

The princess, having signified her readiness 
to give the artist a sitting whenever it suited 

* Note. This picture now graces (?) the Italian cabinet, 
in the Pinakothek of the King of Bavaria. 


THE PORTRAIT. 


49 


his convenience, he arranged his easel, and 
placed a chair for her. 

“ I propose,” said he, “ with your approbation 
and permission, to make a few careful studies 
in color, of your head, before commencing a 
finished portrait.” 

By all means, I hope you will allow me 
to look at you, the sittings will be so much 
more agreeable, if we can look at and con- 
verse with each other.” 

“ Certainly, place yourself in any attitude 
most agreeable to you, and talk as freely 
as you please, it gives animation and ex- 
pression to the countenance. I always en- 
deavor to converse with my sitters, although 
my absorption in the work before me, I have 
no doubt, oftentimes makes me utter the most 
unintelligible nonsense.” 

“ Have you never been said,” asked the 
princess, “ to resemble Lord Byron ? ” 

“ Not that I am aware of, there are so 
many dissimilar portraits of his Lordship that 
I should hardly know whether to take such 
a resemblance as a compliment or otherwise. 
That by Bartolini, I am convinced, by his 
reputation as a sculptor, must be an excel- 

4 


50 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


lent likeness, yet we are told by Moore, that 
his Lordship was not at all satisfied with 
it, complaining that it gave him a Jesuitical 
air. Perhaps it was the truth of the resem- 
blance which displeased him. The portrait by 
Phillips, the only one which Byron allowed to 
be published with his works, is said by good 
judges, to have been flattered and generalized. 
It is supposed to have his air and manner 
without the individuality of his features or 
expression.” 

“ I presume it is this portrait which you 
appear to me somewhat to resemble. I al- 
luded, of course, to his portraits only. He 
died before I was born. His mode of life here 
gave him a scandalous notoriety, habits of in- 
ebriation in which he is said often to have 
indulged were not calculated to raise him in 
the estimation of the Italians — habituated 
from their earliest childhood, to a moderate 
use of the juice of the grape, without abusing 
it, the sight of a drunkard inspires them with 
feelings of pity and disgust.” 

“ I have remarked,” replied Carroll, that 
intoxication is a vice rarely met with on the 
continent. This reminds me of an anecdote 


THE POBTKAIT. 


51 


related by a friend, in a letter from America, of 
the great naturalist, Agassiz, who has recently 
honored us by taking up his abode in our coun- 
try. He received a call from a gentleman who 
came to solicit his subscription in aid of the 
temperance cause. After hastily looking at the 
heading of the paper, Agassiz assured his visitor 
that he was a warm friend to the cause of tem- 
perance, but that he must decline subscribing, 
not approving the principles set forth in the 
programme, or the mode of operation proposed. 
‘ Form a society,’ said he, ‘ for the propagation 
of the vine and the manufacture of pure wine, 
at prices within the reach of the poorest laborer, 
and I will heartily contribute to the very extent 
of my means.’ • Make wine cheap ! ’ exclaimed 
the astonished philanthropist. ‘ All our endeav- 
ors have been directed to dissuade men from 
the use of the simplest stimulant.’ ‘ Therein, 
I think,’ said Agassiz, ‘ lies your error ; to the 
laborers of Europe the free use of wine is 
habitual, in fact it forms a large staple of 
their diet, and yet drunkenness is, I may almost 
say, entirely unknown to them; to refuse to 
enjoy the gifts of Providence from the fear of 
abusing them, is a confession of weakness, as it 


52 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


seems to me, beneath the dignity of man- 
hood.’ ” 

“ I have heard the name of Agassiz,” said she, 
“ pronounced with great respect by scientific 
men, as one destined to rank as the equal, if 
not the superior of Cuvier, of whom, I believe, 
he was a pupil ; he has already, though young, 
a European celebrity.” 

“Another anecdote of him amused me much,” 
continued Carroll ; “ he had declined to deliver 
a lecture before some lyceum, or public society, 
on account of the inroads which previous lec- 
tures given by him had made upon his studies 
and habits of thought. Th4 gentleman, who 
had been deputed to invite him, continued to 
press the invitation, assuring him that the soci- 
ety were ready to pay him liberally for his ser- 
vices. ‘ That is no inducement to me,’ replied 
Agassiz ; ‘ I cannot afford to waste my time in 
making money.’ To an ordinary minded man, 
who measures the value of every thing by 
money as a standard, this answer must have 
seemed somewhat paradoxical. He departed 
with a puzzled and ruminating air ; possibly, 
before reaching home, a new light may have 
burst upon him, namely, that there are a few 


THE PORTRAIT. 


53 


gifted minds whose exertions and ambitions 
have a higher aim than the acquisition of gold.” 

“ Charming ! ” said the princess ; “ he must 
be a wit, as well as a philosopher.” 

“ My friend, who seems quite full of his sub- 
ject, ascribes to him the wisdom of a philoso- 
pher, the graces and accomplishments of a 
courtier, together with the jovial frankness and 
unaffected simplicity of a school-boy. When in 
London, he was one day walking with an 
Englishman who had been introduced to him, 
equally distinguished by his rank as a nobleman 
and as a lover of science. Passing, together, 
through a market, the eye of the Swiss natural- 
ist was attracted by a small fish, with which he 
was not familiar. He eagerly purchased the 
specimen, and, passing a string through its 
gills, hastened to carry it to his lodgings, for 
immediate examination and study. They had 
not walked many steps when his companion, 
drawing out his watch, began in a confused and 
stammering manner to plead an engagement. 
It was evidently an excuse to avoid the com- 
pany of a stranger, who was carrying the product 
of the fish-market through the streets of Lon- 
don. ‘ I ask your pardon,’ said Agassiz ; ‘ if I 


54 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


have placed your lordship in an awkward or 
ridiculous position. A student’s habits and 
manner of thinking have made me careless of 
appearances ; my time is too valuable to be sac- 
rificed to mere conventionalities — but, perhaps, 
I have done wrong to forget the nobleman in 
the scientific man.’ The Englishman paused a 
moment, slightly coloring, then extending his 
hand, ‘ My friend,’ said he, ‘ you have taught 
me that I have a weakness of which I am 
heartily ashamed. To show you that I am 
cured, and, as a penance for my false pride, I 
insist on carrying your specimen for you.’ 
From that moment they were the best of 
friends.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the princess, “ when Alex- 
ander stooped to pick up the pencil which he 
handed to Apelles, the compliment which he 
paid to art was vulgar and theatrical, in com- 
parison with that paid by the noble Englishman 
to science. Did 1 understand you to say that 
your letter was from an amico o uvC arnica ? ” 
asked she, with an arch smile. 

“ Un amico^ cara SignoraP 

“ I know it,” said she, “ it was only a ruse to 
introduce a question. Tell me, Ernesto, what 
is the state of your heart ? ” 


THE PORTRAIT. 


55 


“ This is the first moment of my life that I 
was ever aware that I had one,” gallantly an- 
swered Carroll. 

“ I am glad of it, you must keep it for your 
sister, she will need all your affection and love.” 

It is diflicult to describe the perfectly natural, 
simple, and unconscious manner in which this 
remark was made. 

“ The task you impose upon me would be a 
very easy one, though, perhaps, not unattended 
with danger.” 

“ Danger ? What danger can threaten our 
loves ? It is only to the vulgar, gross, and un- 
refined, that love can occasion any danger. My 
love for thee, Ernesto, has no admixture of 
earthly feeling ; it is too elevated, too spiritual, 
too tranquil and happy ! ‘ To deny one’s self 

the enjoyment of a blessing from the fear of 
abusing it, is to confess a weakness beneath the 
dignity of rational creatures.’ You see I am 
quoting from Agassiz.” 

“ May I cease to be blessed by your love,” 
said Ernest, with enthusiasm, “ if I ever cease 
to think of you as a sister ! ” 

“ Amen ! ” faltered the princess, in a tone 
almost inaudible, and turning pale as marble. 


56 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Like Macbeth’s amen, the word seemed to 
choke her utterance. 

Carroll had, by this time, carefully sketched 
an admirable likeness. An outline of the head, 
with all her features, each rendered by its ap- 
propriate local tint, was already fixed upon the 
canvas ; he was now busily engaged in blending 
the colors, modelling up the features, and, with 
happy touches here and there, giving expression 
and animation. Perceiving the careful attention 
which he bestowed on his work, the princess 
bore the whole burden of the conversation. 
Upon whatever subject she touched, whether 
literature, art, poetry, the drama, politics, or 
gossip, she astonished her hearer by the extent 
of her information, the soundness of her judg- 
ment, the brilliancy of her wit, and, above all, 
the dignity and purity of her character. She 
was now in a humorous vein ; whenever she 
touched on the ridiculous, Ernest was obliged 
to lean back in his chair and indulge in uncon- 
trolled laughter. 

“ You seem to be in good spirits,” said she. 
“ I presume your work goes on to your satisfac- 
tion.” 

“ You are the most admirable of sitters,” 


THE PORTRAIT. 


57 


replied Carroll. “ You have kept your post for 
three long hours without any appearance of 
fatigue or restlessness ; I am sure you must be 
weary — fortunately, in the present stage of my 
picture, I can do nothing more to-day.” 

“ May I be allowed to look at it ? ” 

“ I was just on the point of requesting that 
honor.” 

“ Ah ! Ernest,” said she, evidently surprised 
and pleased with the portrait; “lam sure you 
have flattered me immensely. My glass never 
showed to me one half of those beauties.” 

“ On the contrary it is, at present, but a poor 
and feeble reflection of the image which has 
been dazzling my eyes this whole sitting. I am 
tolerably satisfied, however, with my morning’s 
work ; a few more touches, a little heightening 
and toning the colors, by means of glazing, will 
improve it vastly, by giving a greater appearance 
of finish and roundness.” 

“ I cannot express the pleasure — the pride I 
feel in this proof that you really possess all the 
talent and genius which I had attributed to you 
in my imagination. It makes me proud of my 
love ; you are destined to achieve a great name, 
and to create a sensation at no distant day.” 


68 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Which I shall value infinitely less than the 
happiness of having given you pleasure.” 

“ Are you fond of riding ? ” 

“ Passionately ; when at Florence, which has 
been my home for the last two years, a morning 
and evening ride formed my regular daily exer- 
cise. Since I have been in Venice I have not 
been sorry to exchange my rides on horseback 
for the more novel and lazy locomotion of the 
luxurious gondola.” 

“Why should we not enjoy both?” asked 
the princess. “ After an hour or two on the 
Lagunes, we can land at the Lido, where An- 
tonio shall be ready with horses. It wants four 
hours to our dinner time, six o’clock ; we cannot 
better employ the interval.” 

“ With all my heart.” 

The princess retired to her apartment to ex- 
change her morning dress for that of an Ama- 
zon ; and Carroll, having gathered up his brushes 
and painting materials, equipped himself in rid- 
ing costume, and joined the princess, whom he 
found waiting in the parlor. 

They were soon on the Lagunes, rowed back 
and forth by two stout gondoliers. Carroll de- 
rived much interesting and valuable information 


THE PORTRAIT. 


59 


in relation to the history, arts, and manufac- 
tures of the Venetians. Nearly three hours had 
passed in this agreeable conversation before 
they reached the Lido. Placing her foot in 
Ernest’s hand, the princess nimbly vaulted into 
the saddle, and they started off on a gallop, with 
Antonio following at a respectful distance. 

“ Your horsemanship, Sofia, like every thing 
else you do, is altogether perfect.” 

“ I am very fond of the exercise,” said she ; 
“ and long habit has made me quite at home in 
the saddle. I cannot ride like an English 
woman, nor would I if I could,” she added, 
smiling. 

I have remarked a fact in relation to your 
countrymen,” said Carroll, “ which strikes me 
as a natural characteristic. In all their accom- 
plishments, such as riding, fencing, dancing, 
singing, or conversation, grace seems in them a 
natural gift, rather than an acquisition. There 
is no appearance of the artificial — if art has 
any thing to do with it, it only illustrates the 
proverb, Ars est celare ariem.^’’ 

“ Most ingeniously complimentary,” said the 
princess, glancing at her watch. “ Let us hasten 
to dinner.” 


60 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Arriving at the palazzo, refreshed and invig- 
orated by exercise, they found the dinner which 
awaited them not unwelcome. The repast was 
a sumptuous one, and the fair princess, in the 
kindness of her hospitality and eager curiosity 
with regard to every thing relating to her guest, 
reminded him of Virgil’s description of Dido, 
when entertaining the Trojan hero at her board. 

The hours flew gayly by, until the clock told 
Carroll it was now time to retire. On bidding 
him good night, the princess asked how he liked 
the present routine of his life. “ Can you be 
contented in Venice ? ” 

“ A me mi pare di essere in paradiso^'* said he. 
“ That is easily accounted for,” replied she ; 
“ angels always create a paradise around them, 
whenever they deign to visit us poor mortals. 
FelicAssima notte*^ 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


61 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE SECRET CHAMBER. 

“ Lydia, die, per omnes 

Te deos oro, Sybarin cur properas amando 

Perdere V ” 

The routine of the day, described in the last 
chapter, may serve as a sample of those which 
followed it, at Palazzo Zerlinski. After break- 
fast, the mornings were devoted to painting in 
the library. The afternoons to gondola excur- 
sions to some gallery, distant palace, or country 
seat, after which a ride on the Lido, ended the 
active employments of the day. The evenings 
were devoted to music, reading, and drawing. 
The princess would read to Carroll, as he sat 
sketching from memory some record of the day, 
or compassing a design, suggested by some 
passing thought of his own, or by a remark of 
hers. These quiet, home-like occupations the 
princess declared were infinitely more to her 
taste than the glare and excitement of the opera. 


62 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Carroll had been most assiduously and suc- 
cessfully employed. He had made two very 
accurate and highly-finished studies of the prin- 
cess’s head ; and also completed a half-length 
portrait, in which he had been eminently suc- 
cessful. Surrounded by exquisite specimens of 
the old masters, he had divined many of their 
secret processes, and caught much of the spirit, 
life, and - brilliancy of their coloring. It was a 
correct portrait of an exquisitely beautiful 
woman, in whose attitude and figure it were 
difficult to decide whether grace or majesty of 
bearing formed the prominent feature. Although 
it was highly and brilliantly colored, like most 
of the old Venetian pictures, it was so richly 
and harmoniously toned, that an internal light 
glowed beneath its surface like that from a 
sparkling gem. With secret pride and pleasure 
Carroll saw it framed, and occupying in the 
library the place from which the portrait of 
Titian’s pupil had been banished. He was by 
no means entirely satisfied with his work, which 
he knew fell far short of doing justice to his fair 
sitter, but he could not help feeling that he had 
made a great stride in his art, and was elated to 
observe how well it held its own, in point of 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


63 


tone and color, in company with the brilliant 
masterpieces which surrounded it. It is the 
fate of the gifted and aspiring artist to regard 
the most finished and studied of his productions 
as a tame and faint expression of his concep- 
tion. Mediocre artists alone have the pleas- 
ure of surveying their own works with entire 
complacency and satisfaction. The princess, 
however, expressed unfeigned pleasure at seeing 
herself represented in such flattering colors. 
“ You must have been inspired by the memory 
of that portrait of Titian’s mother by himself, 
looking, as you happily expressed it, like the 
quintessence of forty empresses. Henceforth I 
shall look upon you as a Tiziano.” 

“ Ah, Sofia, Titian never had such a sitter, 
and you ascribe to my poor hands the charms 
which you have furnished yourself.” 

The reader who has seen the easy and famil- 
iar footing on which the hostess and her guest 
had now lived together for more than a week, 
may be curious to ask the question, which the 
princess had on a former occasion put to Carroll 
himself, “What was the state of his heart?” 
It was a question which he had lately fre- 
quently asked, and the answer gave him great 


64 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


trouble and perplexity. He was desperately in 
love. The kindness and' affection of manner 
with which she had so cordially welcomed him 
at their first meeting, instead of abating, had 
increased in intensity, and Carroll could not 
help doubting whether they were dictated solely 
by a sisterly interest. They were in the daily 
and ho^rly habit of interchanging expressions 
of devotion and love. Love was as familiar to 
their lips as household words ; but these expres- 
sions had on both sides been guarded by the 
gentleness and purity of the strictest platonism. 
Carroll felt that in his own case the fire of love 
had been surrounded by the snow of language, 
only to rage more fiercely in his bosom. He 
knew that the possession of the object of his 
love was essential to his happiness, but saw no 
evidence of a corresponding feeling on the part 
of his beloved. Remembering the distinctions 
of rank, of her native country, he blushed with 
a mixture of shame and anger to think of the 
surprised and humiliating contempt he might 
incur, should he have the presumption to aspire 
to her hand. One moment, he formed the reso- 
lution of asserting his privileges as a man and a 
gentleman, by declaring his passion, and run- 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


65 


ning the risk of an acceptance or a refusal. 
The next moment found him wavering whether 
to accept the princess’s pressing invitation to 
remain a while longer, or, by an immediate 
flight from her presence, to regain the repose of 
mind he had lost. This presence had become 
so essential to his happiness, that he had not 
the courage to forswear it, and he remained in a 
state of restless and- torturing vacillation. Such 
was the state of his feelings when, on the morn- 
ing of the tenth day, he awoke from a sound 
slumber, after a long struggle of the contending 
emotions we have just described. On rising to 
dress himself, he was surprised to find lying 
on his pillow a slip of paper, on which were 
inscribed the following lines : 

“ Care pupille, tra mill’ e mille 
Piu saldo amore del mio, non ve. 

No, non trovate, se lo cercate 
Piu saldo amore piu pura fe.” 

He recognized the handwriting as that of the 
princess. But in what manner it had been con- 
veyed thither, puzzled his ingenuity to divine. 
That it was not there when he retired to rest, 
he was perfectly sure. Hastily rising from his 
bed, he examined the fastenings of every door 


6 


66 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


and window. Each lock was fastened with the 
key turned on the inside ; each window barred 
so securely as to make an entrance to his apart- 
ment from without impossible. A bright ray of 
hope now flashed across his mind. “ My charm- 
ing Sofia,” said he, “ has seen the agonies 
which have tortured me, has divined all my 
doubts and fears, and has chosen this gentle 
method of encouraging me. ‘ Love laughs at 
locksmiths,’ and the princess has too brilliant a 
genius to fail in the execution of any design, 
the outline of which she has once conceived. 
This very day I will declare my love, and solicit 
the honor of her hand. It will require all my 
courage, but I will seize the first favorable 
opportunity.” Perceiving that the hour was 
unusually late, he hastily finished his toilette, 
and joined the princess at breakfast. 

He found his hostess in the gayest and 
merriest of moods. She skipped from one 
topic to another with such a light and mirth- 
ful humor, that Carroll could not think of 
approaching the solemn and engrossing sub- 
ject of his thoughts, until her spirits should 
have exhausted somewhat of their present 
exuberance. She had been ridiculing the un- 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


67 


due reputation given to Salvator Rosa, by 
the English, on account of the picturesque- 
ness of his subjects and the bravura of his 
handling. She made a witty and artistical 
analysis, or rather comparison of the works 
of Salvator Rosa, Gaspar Poussin, and Claude 
Lorraine, in which by force of happy and 
appropriate epithets she reproduced in words, 
pictures characteristic of each of these artists. 

Carroll remarked, that individual taste in 
regard to scenery, might be accounted for 
by individuality of temperament. “ For my 
own part,” said he, “ I prefer the calm quiet 
and tranquillity of the valley to the more 
bracing air and stirring picturesqueness of 
mountain scenery. I would not thank any 
one to take me to the top of a high moun- 
tain and show me the most extensive pros- 
pect.” 

“ Obbligatay^ said she, interrupting him. “ 1 
presume, also, that you would be extremely 
cautious about accepting any offers which 
might be made to you by your guide and 
conductor, while there.” 

Carroll could not refrain from laughter, at 
the happy turn of the expression which showed 


68 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


him that he had, unconsciously, used words so 
closely identical with those of an inspired 
writer, on a very different subject. 

“ You must excuse me for an hour or 
two,” said she, rising — “ I have some writing 
to do which will not admit of further delay. 
A rivedertir 

After a short interval, which seemed an 
age to the anxious lover, entering the library 
she resumed the thread of her conversation; 
perceiving that Carroll bore a very small part 
in it, she suddenly paused, and asked “ I fear 
I am tiring you with my nonsense, or, per- 
haps, Ernesto, you are not well to-day ? ” 

Carroll embraced this as a favorable mo- 
ment, and without hinting at any idea of 
the authorship, expressed himself puzzled to 
account for the mysterious conveyance of a 
copy of verses to his pillow during the last 
night, while all mode of access to his cham- 
ber seemed to him impossible. 

“ Consequently,” said she, “you are very 
much alarmed for your safety? It was a mis- 
chievous trick of mine, from which I ex- 
pected much sport this morning. In fact, I 
have felt not a little piqued that you did 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


69 


not mention it sooner. To calm your fears 
on the score of safety, I must show you that 
no one can have access to your room, with 
the exception of one who has no inclination 
to harm you. Do me the favor to go into 
your chamber, lock all the doors, and stand 
with your face opposite to this door of en- 
trance, until I call to you.” 

Carroll obeyed these instructions, locked 
carefully every door and window, and took 
the prescribed position ; a few moments only 
had elapsed, when feeling a gentle tap on his 
shoulder, and hearing his name pronounced, 
he turned and saw the princess standing by 
his side ! “ You have the step of a fairy,” 

said he, “ I fancied T should hear you.” 

“ And how do you imagine I entered,” said 
she, highly enjoying his astonishment. 

“ Oh ! by the keyhole, of course, like other 
fairies.” 

“ No ! I came through that picture.” 

Carroll turned his eyes towards the only 
picture in the room. It was a full length family 
portrait, probably the one mentioned by the 
princess as having been painted by Vandyke, 
reaching to the very floor. 


70 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ I see, Sofia, that you are determined not 
to lose the sport you anticipated : Tu mi 
burliy 

“ Observe,” said she, slightly pressing a spring 
on the frame; a portion of it, with the pic- 
ture, gently and noiselessly receded, turning 
on hinges like a door, which in fact it was, 
leading to an adjoining apartment. 

Following the princess, who tripped lightly 
over the threshold formed by the lower part 
of the frame, Carroll entered the room and 
the door closed behind them. He found him- 
self in a small apartment, lighted by a single 
window of rose-colored glass ; without any ap- 
parent entrance or egress. The door which 
had just closed, showed a picture on this side, 
which fitting closely into another gilt frame, 
as a door casing, completely concealed the 
passage, and seemed a fixture on the wall. 

“ You are now in the possession of a secret 
known only to myself beside. By a similar 
arrangement, the picture opposite to the one 
by which we entered connects this room with 
my sleeping apartment. It required no aid of 
magic for me to convey those verses to your 
pillow, while you slept so soundly. This con- 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


71 


trivance occurred to me about a year ago, 
and I lost no time in executing it. The door 
by which this room was formerly entered, led 
from the parlor. That door I ordered to be 
walled up, thus gaining in the parlor an ex- 
cellent position for my favorite Guido. I next 
caused these two openings to be made, and 
the mode of concealing them was executed 
by different workmen who were not aware of 
the object in view, with the exception of a 
trusty old carpenter, who hung the doors on 
their hinges and fitted the springs. He died 
about six months since, I am confident with- 
out breathing a word of my secret. It oc- 
ctirred to me that in some of those revolu- 
tions which periodically threaten our unfortu- 
nate country, some friend or friends might 
become compromised, and in danger of their 
lives. Here is an asylum in which I could 
conceal them for any length of time.” 

“ Most ingeniously planned and executed,” 
said Carroll, whose heart began to palpitate at 
the thought of the isolated condition in which 
he was placed with his hostess. 

“ It is pleasant, sometimes, to be alone,” re- 
sumed she. “ Tell me, Ernest, does it not give 


72 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


you a singular sensation to reflect that at this 
present moment we are lost to the world, as 
completely as if we were inhabitants of another 
bright planet ? Here no curious eye can watch 
our movements, no eavesdropping ear can listen 
to our words.” 

“ Here then, princess, in the presence of God 
alone,” said he, with great emotion, “ would I 
unburden to you my bosom, with all its doubts, 
hopes, and fears.” 

“ What ails my Ernesto ? ” asked she, with a 
look of anxious solicitude. 

“ Ah, Sofia, I find that I have ceased to regard 
you as a sister. The flame which is devouring 
me is that of ardent passion and devotion. To 
continue in my present false position would 
drive me to madness. Decide, then, whether 
you will accept me for your husband, or whether 
you will banish me, laden with scorn, contempt, 
and indignation ! ” 

If the eyes of the princess glowed with an 
unwonted fire, it was not that of indignation. 
Her color heightened, and her lips wore a smile 
which was not that of contempt. 

“ My heart, Ernesto, was thine Irom the first 
moment I saw thee, and here is my hand — since 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


73 


it is necessary to your happiness.’’ Then, turn- 
ing suddenly pale, she added, “ There are many 
reasons — I hardly know whether dictated by my 
head or my heart — why I should not wish our 
marriage to be a public one. Kneeling together, 
without witnesses, at the altar of the holy Ma- 
donna, we will swear to each other a constant 
and perpetual connubial love. The lightness of 
the bond which unites us shall be a proof of the 
confidence we mutually repose in one another. 
This night we will solemnize our wedding.” 

To the most inexperienced and unsophisti- 
cated youth, though possessed of only a half of 
our hero’s sagacity and intelligence, the import 
of these words would have been sufficiently 
significant. If he paused for a moment, it was 
only to doubt whether he had heard rightly. He 
mournfully raised his eyes to the countenance 
of the princess, to see whether a demon had not 
taken her place. An angel form stood before 
him, beckoning him onward towards an abyss, 
which he shuddered to contemplate. The strug- 
gle between passion and principle was too vio- 
lent for physical endurance — a deadly faintness 
stole over him, and he sank senseless into a 
chair. 


74 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


On returning to consciousness, Carroll found 
the princess chafing his temples, and eagerly 
applying restoratives. 

“ Thank God, he revives,” said she, as he 
started up, and gazed wildly around. 

The preceding scene was, for a few moments, 
completely erased from his memory, which went 
no further back than to their entrance to the 
secret room — the rest was a blank. 

“ What has happened ? ” asked he. 

“ You have been overtaken by faintness. It 
is my fault, for I have selfishly kept you too long 
from your exercise. My nerves have had too 
serious an alarm to allow me to accompany 
you ; the air and exercise will restore you soon. 
Hasten, then, to the Lido, it is the hour of our 
accustomed ride. Refresh your jaded spirits by 
gentle exercise, and return to love and content- 
ment.” 

These last words recalled to Carroll all that 
had passed ; feeling the necessity of being alone, 
and collecting his scattered thoughts, he bade the 
princess a hasty adieu — passed through the door 
by which he had entered, and hurried to the gon- 
dola on his way to the Lido. The coolness of 
the breeze, on the water, soon restored to him his 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


75 


usual bodily health ; but his mind continued in 
a feverish agitation. He was glad to exchange 
the slow motion of the gondola for a stirring 
gallop on the Lido. Rushing forward, with the 
speed of lightning, he gave free vent to the ex- 
pression of his feelings. 

“ Ah! Borgia^ traditrice^' said he to himself; 
“ is it thus that you have ensnared the heart of 
your guest, only to makb him a partner of your 
guilty loves ? ” 

The memory of her beauty, fascinating tal- 
ents, and kind hospitality then pleaded for a 
more favorable verdict. The different standard 
of morals, the evil influence of example, and a 
peculiar situation, might justly mitigate the 
severity of his condemnation. It might be out 
of her power to submit herself to the bonds of 
a legal marriage. In the purity of her heart, 
perhaps she intended to consider the marriage 
as solemn and binding as if it had been publicly 
solemnized. Completely engrossed by the cur- 
rent of his thoughts, he paid little or no atten- 
tion to the guidance of his horse, which, 
suddenly tripping, stumbled, and threw his 
master on the beach. 

Antonio was soon at his side, and helping 


76 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


him to rise, “ What possessed your Excellency 
to ride as if the devil were after you ? ” 

On attempting to remount, Carroll perceived, 
by a numbness of his right arm, and a total in- 
capacity to move it, that he had met with a 
serious accident. 

“ This will never do, Antonio ; I have need of 
a surgeon. I cannot think of incommoding the 
princess’s household in my present state — lead 
me to the gondola, and let me be rowed to my 
own lodgings.” 

To hear, with Antonio, was to obey. Carroll 
soon reached his lodgings, sent his own servant 
for the court physician, who was also an eminent 
surgeon. Antonio was charged to represent the 
matter in the most favorable light to the princess, 
and, wishing Carroll health and a speedy recov- 
ery, he departed. 

Professor Andrei, the surgeon who had been 
summoned, soon made his appearance. After 
learning the nature of the accident, he pro- 
ceeded to an examination of the arm. 

“ Your Eccellenza has had a narrow escape,” 
said he. “ You have fractured the humerus ; 
but the fracture is not complete, and amounts 
only to a splintering of that bone, so that you 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


77 


will be spared the pain of a setting. I shall 
endeavor to keep down the inflammation and 
swelling by means of wet compresses, which 
must be replaced by fresh ones as often as they 
become dry. You must live on a light broth 
diet for a few days, to avoid the danger of a 
fever.” 

Having adjusted a compress or bandage of 
linen, which he carefully and gently bound on, 
he gave Carroll’s servants instructions how to 
renew and apply them. 

“ Should you be thirsty, you can drink freely 
of water ; at present you have need of rest — 
and I shall administer a slightly narcotic pill.” 
So saying, he drew from a small gold box a little 
pill, which he gave to his patient. “ I shall call 
early to-morrow morning,” said he, on retiring. 
“ Buon riposoP 

Thus ended the tenth day of what may be 
termed, Un De earner one in Venezia. 


78 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE DENOUEMENT. 

“ Donne, donne chi v’ arriva, 

Chi v’ arriv’ indovinar ! ” 

On the following morning, Carroll awoke, 
refreshed both bodily and mentally, by a long 
night’s rest. Dr. Andrei had judged rightly, in 
supposing that his patient stood in need of 
something more than the relief of a natural 
sleep. His quick, medical eye, observed an 
unusual nervous excitement, which he naturally 
attributed to the fright, or pain caused by his 
accident. The good effects of the opiate con- 
tinued for some time after he was fairly awake. 
His mind remained in a pleasing, dreamy state, 
undisturbed by any of the doubts or perplexities 
of yesterday. 

Buon giorno, Eccellenza,^^ said Giovanni, his 
servant, handing him a note. “ This note came 
last evening by the lad who conveyed you home 


THE DENOUEMENT. 


79 


yesterday. He came to inquire how you were, 
and brought your trunk, which I have un- 
packed, and .” 

“ Va bene^^^ said Carroll. 

Opening the note, which was in the hand- 
writing of the princess, he read as follows : 

“ Carissimo Mio , — I cannot describe the terror 
and anxiety into which I am thrown by the 
news of your accident. I deeply regretted that 
you had not returned to my house; but on 
second thoughts, it is, perhaps, better that you 
should remain in perfect quiet for a few days. 
Were you under my roof, I could not deny 
myself the pleasure of sitting by you, and talk- 
ing more than I ought in the present state of 
your health. I shall send daily to inquire after 
you. I am endeavoring to be as brief as pos- 
sible for your sake, but cannot put down my 
pen, until it has assured you of the tender soli- 
citude and love of tua sposa, Sofia.” 

Shortly after the perusal of this note, Gio- 
vanni announced Doctor Andrei. He was a re- 
markably handsome man of about forty, wear- 
ing a most agreeable and pleasing expression. 


80 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


and equally distinguished by the recherche ele- 
gance of his dress and address. Carroll felt 
that the fine, healthy, intelligent, and cheerful 
face of the doctor must make him always a 
welcome visitor to his patients. 

“ Your pulse is much improved,” said he. 
“ Let us examine the arm.” 

The swelling had very nearly subsided. After 
renewing the compresses, which he gently did 
with his own hands, bidding Giovanni to ob- 
serve the manner in which it should be done, 
he assured Carroll that he had every reason 
to anticipate a speedy recovery, and took his 
leave. 

It is not our intention to trace the gradual 
progress of the patient, which would be as 
tedious to the reader as it was to the invalid. 
Suffice it to say, that in a week or two, Carroll 
had so far recovered as to require no further 
attendance of his physician. 

When the good doctor announced his inten- 
tion of discontinuing his visits, Carroll pre- 
sented him with an unusually handsome fee, 
and expressed his sincere regret at losing the 
agreeable company and conversation which he 
felt had contributed so much to his pleasure. 


THE DENOUEMENT. 


81 


“ Will you allow me to send this trifle to your 
house ? ” 

“ Troppo garhato^ Signore^^^ said the Doc- 
tor, pocketing his fee, “ considering the actual 
weight of the metal, it is remarkable how easily 
and pleasantly one can carry gold — ha, ha ! I 
shall do myself the honor to pay you an occa- 
sional visit, as a friend, you have no further 
need of a physician. Delighted to have made 
your Eccellenza^ s acquaintance — a rivederla^ 

During the whole of his illness, Carroll had 
been in the daily receipt of long communica- 
tions from the princess, which made amends for 
the loss of her conversation, and rekindled his 
admiration of her talents and the fervor of his 
devotion. He resolved to take an early oppor- 
tunity of calling to ascertain whether the man- 
ner in which she had received his offer was 
merely the hasty expression of a generous sym- 
pathy and impulsive nature, or the cool decision 
of a deliberate, calculating, and unprincipled 
mind. In the latter case, he fancied he should 
cease to love where he must cease to esteem. 
He felt that he could part with her without a 
sigh of regret. On the other hand, should the 
princess see the matter in the same light with 


82 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


himself, and accept his offer of marriage, he felt 
that it would be an act of great imprudence 
on his part, until he had entirely cleared up the 
doubts and suspicions which had been forced 
upon him. He had gone too far, however, to 
recede, until he should be satisfied that honor 
and duty required it. He was on the point of 
writing a note, requesting permission to visit 
the princess, when he received the following : 

“ Carissimo Ernesto — Thinking that a sou- 
venir of your Sofia might not be unwelcome, 
I send the two studies which you made prepar- 
atory to your finished portrait. Keep them for 
your own eyes alone, caro Ernesto ; they are 
sad tell-tales. Those loving eyes speak plainer 
than words of the tender passion I felt for the 
painter. I have been interrupted by a most 
unwelcome incident. I have just received an 
unexpected visit from a cousin, who will remain 
a few days only in Venice. His presence 
would be a restraint on the intercourse we have 
been accustomed to, and we might find it diffi- 
cult, if not impossible, to play parts which we 
have never rehearsed. Our meeting will be 
postponed for a short time only, although to me 


THE DENOUEMENT. 


83 


it seems an eternity. Do not write or visit me 
until I give you notice. The memory of the 
past, and hopes of the future, are all that 
render the present supportable. Praying for 
a speedy and happy union, let me assure you 
of the devote4 love of your Sposa Sofia.” 

Love is quick to take alarm, and jeal- 
ousy is apt (sooner or later) to invade the 
heart which is engrossed by a worshipped 
idol. The idea of his place at Palazzo Zer- 
linski, being filled by another, though a rel- 
ative, was gall and wormwood to Ernest. 
He remembered with a bitter smile, as he re- 
read the passage, that with the Italians, the 
name of un cugino was often a substitute for 
that of a lover. Was he younger or older 
than the princess? — handsome and accom- 
plished — or ordinary and uninteresting? These 
were questions so often recurring that he de- 
termined that very evening to go to the opera 
in hopes of getting sight of this unwelcome 
visitor. 

He had no sooner taken his seat at the 
opera house, than casting a hurried glance at 
the princess’s box, he perceived her accom- 


84 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


panied by a gentleman of a decidedly aristocratic 
appearance, whom he presumed to be the 
cousin alluded to. He was apparently about 
thirty-five years of age, with a light florid 
complexion, and a cast of features rather 
German than Italian. In his conversation 
with the gentlemen who visited the princess’s 
box, there was an air of coldness and reserve, 
amounting almost to hauteur. Ernest, who 
watched him narrowly, could see nothing in 
his manners towards his cousin, which bore 
the least resemblance to those of a lover. 
So far was he fi-om exhibiting any signs of 
CTTvpressement^ that he seemed wanting in the 
common courtesies which might be expected 
from one who was enjoying the protection 
and hospitality of her roof. He allowed her 
to pick up her own fan, or handkerchief, and 
seemed as unconscious of her presence as if 
she were not there. Ernest was now satisfied 
that this gentleman was either a relation of 
the princess, or more probably of her late 
husband. 

Presently the door of his box opened and 
Dr. Andrei entered and complimented him 
on his restoration to health. After a few po- 


THE DENOUEMENT. 


85 


lite inquiries he seated himself, and began 
to amuse Carroll, whom he knew to be a 
stranger in Venice, with most lively gossip 
and description of different personages present. 
After he had sketched some dozen portraits, 
skipping from one box to another, Carroll, 
ventured to ask “ Who is the gentleman 
with the Princess Zerlinski?” 

“The Prince,” said the doctor. 

“ What Prince ? ” 

“ II Principe Zerlinski — her husband,” re- 
plied he. 

“ I thought,” stammered Ernest, “ that the 
princess was a widow.” 

“ After a certain fashion,” said the doctor, 
smiling. “ The prince, for reasons best known 
to himself, spends most of his time in Rus- 
sia and Poland, where his estates lie. Ma- 
dama prefers the air of Italy.” 

“ It seems very imprudent to leave so young 
and beautiful a wife unprotected in Venice,” 
said Ernest, “ she must have many admirers.” 

“ Whom she changes as often as her dresses, 
so scandal says, and with as little compunc- 
tion. She is careful to entertain a gallant 
on the most intimate footing for a week or 


86 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


two, and meeting him the next day, to pass 
him without taking the slightest notice of 
him. A new lover for every new dress, is 
perhaps, an exaggerated statement. For my 
part I never believe more than half of what 
I hear — ha ! ha ! ” 

Having achieved this bon mot^ the gay 
doctor shook Carroll by the hand and retired, 
leaving him in no very agreeable humor.” 

A few moments previous to the entrance 
of Dr. Andrei, Carroll had observed, by the 
direction of her eyes, that the princess was 
aware of his presence. A mutual recogni- 
tion was expressed by a slight wave of 
their lorgnettes. Her face glowed with un- 
feigned pleasure, and Carroll thought he had 
never seen her so beautiful. Shortly after the 
doctor’s departure, without deigning to take 
even a parting glance, Carroll seized his hat, 
and leaving the opera house, the atmosphere 
of which suffocated him, he rushed into the 
open air. What a change had come over 
his feelings ! Venice, which had seemed to 
him a paradise for the last month, was now 
a sink of iniquity. The fresh air of the 
waters of the Adriatic was offensive in his 


THE DENOUEMENT. 


87 


nostrils. To a young and ingenuous mind there 
can be no greater shock than that occasioned by 
the first knowledge of the extent of the vice 
and corruption of this wicked world. All faith 
in human goodness is staggered, and for a time, 
it would seem, that honor and virtue are only 
names of things existing in the imagination. 
Such were the feelings of our hero, as gazing 
at the full moon now high in the heavens above 
him, he mentally apostrophized her. 

“ And thou, Diana, pale empress of the 
night, would’ st also have thy Endymion. The 
vaunted queen of purity and chastity, the 
stern judge and punisher of the frailties of thy 
followers, thou didst stoop from heaven to 
dally with a mortal, whose beauty had melted 
the frost of thy cold and cruel heart. Cosi fan 
tutti. Shaking the dust from my feet upon 
this hated city, I will betake me once more to 
fair, fair Florence, where my days have been 
passed undisturbed by love or ambition, and 
where hours of peaceful ‘study have been re- 
warded by the sweet consciousness of a cor- 
responding progress in my beloved art. From 
this moment. Art alone shall be my mistress; 
she alone never deceives; but, to those who 


88 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


constantly and faithfully woo her, she daily 
shows herself more true, more pure and beau- 
tiful — To Florence ! ” 

By the time he had reached his lodging, he 
began to waver, whether to return to Florence 
or to spend some time in travelling. 

“ Giovanni,’^ said he, “ I leave Venice to- 
morrow. I may go to England. Are you 
willing to accompany me ? ” 

“ Lei e il mio padrone — comandi,^^ was the 
ready reply.” 

“ Benissimoy 

“ Your first care, in the morning, must be to 
get my passports visSd for Bologna, where I 
shall remain a few days. This evening you 
will pack every thing — my clothes, pictures, 
sketches, and materials. If the padrone di casa 
is visible at this late hour, you can notify him 
of my intention to leave Venice, and discharge 
the amount of rent due for my lodging.” 

Whilst Giovanni was busily engaged in mak- 
ing preparations, Carroll sat down to write a 
note to the princess. He commenced by bitterly 
reproaching her for the falsehoods and decep- 
tions of which she had been guilty, and for the 
dangerous position in which he had uncon- 


THE DENOUEMENT. 


89 


sciously been placed by her misrepresentations. 
He had no sooner penned the lines than it oc- 
curred to him that, for a lover to reproach his 
mistress for exposing him to dangers which she 
herself shared, savored more of cowardice than 
just indignation. This was not a light in which 
he was willing to appear before the princess. 
He commenced a second, and third letter, each 
of which was rejected for similar reasons. Fi- 
nally it occurred to him that his duty was a 
very plain one ; he had made a declaration of 
love, which had been favorably received — he 
was now required to give some reasons and 
apology for withdrawing it. He, therefore, began 
anew. 

Assuring her of the sincerity of the olfer 
he had made, he regretted to learn, from an 
authentic source, that he had been misin- 
formed with regard to her position. The hand 
which he had solicited was not hers to give — 
the heart which she had given him had previ- 
ously been pledged to another, in the sight of 
God and man. He did not reproach her with 
having purposely deceived him ; but simply 
spoke of himself as having been misinformed. 

“ Under these circumstances,’^ he remarked, 


90 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ every sentiment of duty, honor, and virtue 
warns me to fly from a presence which endan- 
gers my happiness, and has caused the first 
bitter disappointment of my life.” 

Having expressed a deep sense of the honor 
she had done him, by her kind and generous 
hospitality, he regretted that his heart had re- 
ceived an impression never to be effaced. 

Having signed it “ Ernesto,” he would not 
trust himself to review it; but retired imme- 
diately to rest. 

At about ten o’clock of the following morn- 
ing, Giovanni came to inform him that all was 
in readiness — the luggage had been carried to 
the depot, and a travelling-dress had been placed 
at his bedside, in lieu of the one he had worn. 

Carroll was thinking how he could convey to 
the princess the letter he had written, when 
Antonio called with a note. 

Without opening it, Carroll inclosed it with 
his own, and, sealing the envelope, requested 
Antonio to deliver it to his mistress. At the 
same time he slipped into his hand a handsome 
buona-mano for his past services. Wishing 
his padrone a buon viaggio, Antonio went out, 
followed by Giovanni. 


THE DENOUEMENT. 


91 


In reply to a question from Antonio, as to the 
point of their destination, Carroll heard Giovanni 
answer that they were bound for England. 

“ I have lost two masters, this morning,” said 
Antonio ; “ Signor Ernesto goes to England 
and the Prince Zerlinski took the steamer for 
Trieste, this morning.” 

“ This note, then,” thought Carroll, “ proba- 
bly contained an invitation for me to visit the 
princess to-day. It is well that I did not read 
it — my resolution might have been sorely 
tempted. It is also fortunate that Antonio 
has no clue to my address; I shall be spared 
the pain of an answer.” 

A gondola, in waiting, soon took him to the 
railway station, and, by twelve o’clock, Carroll 
and his servant were rattling along on their 
way to Padua. 


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PART IL 

CHAPTER 1. 

CAFFE DONEY. 

Carroll had been in Padua a few months 
before, and, therefore, having no curiosity to 
satisfy, and being a prey to feverish restlessness, 
he merely waited long enough for Giovanni to 
engage a post conveyance, in order to pursue 
his journey as soon as possible. They passed 
through a most beautiful and fertile country to 
Monselice. On the canal, at no great distance 
from the road, are the baths of Battaglia, and 
not far from them is the ancient castle of 
Catajo, which brought back the days of chiv- 
alry forcibly to our hero’s mind, and seemed as 
if it must be teeming with feudal retainers. 
Giovanni, who had no such poetical associa- 
tions, .was so piqued, however, by curiosity, to 


96 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


explore the place more satisfactorily, that, after 
giving many hints, which were not taken, he 
began vehemently to recommend the celebrated 
mud baths of Battaglia for the restoration of 
his master’s health, describing what he had 
heard of the cure, and laughingly assuring 
Carroll that, to an artist, it must be particularly 
interesting, as it was a species of sculpture. 
“ They make moulds there every day. Signore, 
of arms and legs, and, it is said, that weakness 
and rheumatism leave the flesh, and remain in 
the clay ! ” Ernest was not to be tempted, and 
Giovanni soon found new objects of interest, 
and with childish vivacity admired the land- 
scape, continually exclaiming — come e bello, 
Signore I ” His delight roused Carroll into ob- 
servation ; the scene was monotonously beauti- 
ful ; mile after mile they travelled on a straight 
road, bordered by trees from which vines hung 
festooned, loaded with heavy bunches of green 
and purple grapes. It was September, the time 
of the vintage, and the air was filled with the 
song of birds and the musical intonations of 
the peasants gathering the grapes. Now a pair 
of dark eyes would flash from a neighboring 
tree, responding by their merriment to some 


CAFFE DONEY. 


97 


witticism, when suddenly from the other side 
was heard a vintage chorus, with all the parts 
well sustained, while some of the peasants were 
relieving their sturdy feet, from the weariness 
of standing, by a nimble dance. Carroll was 
amused in spite of himself; the pure blue of 
the sky, the green fobage, the rich color of the 
clustering grapes, the canals skirting the road, 
and the picturesque vintagers, formed a scene 
which allured his eye, and weaned him from his 
vain regrets. Arriving at the Po, much to his 
vexation, he found the grand cortege of a 
Russian princess about to be ferried over. The 
modest post equipage of our travellers was 
obliged to wait on the flat and sandy shore for 
two hours, while the boat plied from side to 
side by a slow and awkward process, which at 
any other time would have amused our hero. 
The sun set with a soft brilliancy peculiar to 
Italy, day faded into evening, and still Carroll 
waited. At length he fell into a dozing state, 
and the old puzzle, of the fox and geese being 
carried over a river, haunted his dreams. After 
seeing them form endless combinations, Reynard 
appeared on one side, cackling and extending 
two white wings, and the geese on the other. 


98 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


with bushy tails. At this crisis, he was aroused 
suddenly from his uneasy slumbers, by Giovan- 
ni’s exclamation of pleasure — “ Om, Signore ^ — 
tocc* a noi ! ” In a short time they reached 
Ferrara, where, after finding the best hotel filled 
by the Russian travellers, they obtained very 
comfortable lodgings at no great distance, where 
a good supper and luxurious bed were very 
welcome. Ferrara, historically interesting, is 
one of the most melancholy of cities in appear- 
ance. Her grass-grown streets, decayed palaces, 
and miserable population, speak of utter stag- 
nation ; hope and liberty seem extinct, and the 
traveller feels relieved, when on quitting the 
gates, he finds himself on the cheerful road lead- 
ing through rich podere to Bologna. The ap- 
proach to this city is so truly picturesque, that 
Carroll was delighted. He passed at short 
intervals villas so charmingly situated, that each 
was more attractive than the last. Large gates, 
swinging between high brick or stone posts, 
crowned by figures of animals or vases of 
flowers, were so universal, that they seemed a 
specialty of Bolognese architecture, — the whole 
appearance of the country is smiling and pros- 
perous, and the transition, on entering the quiet. 


CAFFE DONEY. 


99 


grave, and serious streets of the city, with its 
shady arcades, is very striking. Arrived at the 
“ Tre Mori,” Giovanni unpacked his master’s 
trunk, preparing to stay a few days, and Car- 
roll, after strolling out by moonlight to look at 
the fearful and ugly leaning brick towers, re- 
turned to his large and well-appointed chamber, 
refreshed in body and mind by the beautiful 
scenes through which he had passed. During 
the week spent by Carroll in visiting the public 
and private galleries, so rich in masterpieces of 
the Bolognese school, he was for some time 
undecided whether to seek for amusement by 
travelling, or to resume at once his former 
habits of study and regular employment. He 
finally decided to return to Florence, his late 
home, and gave Giovanni the necessary orders. 

“ Dear, quiet, bird’s-eye view, mind thine own 
business, Florence ! how delighted I am to see 
thee again,” said Carroll, as, approaching the 
city from the summit of the road, he looked 
down upon the Val’ d’ Arno, and beheld “ Firenze 
la bella,” set like a jewel on its bosom. The 
surrounding hill-sides were dotted with villas 
and podere^ inclosing olive groves, vineyards, 
and smiling gardens. The monotony of the 


100 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


red-tiled roofs was broken by lofty gray towers 
and spires, among which the Duomo, flanked by 
the exquisite Campanile, or bell-tower of Giotto, 
occupied a central position. The Arno, which 
was unusually full at this season, reflecting the 
rays of the setting sun, shone like a band of 
gold dividing the city. It is spanned by three 
fine stone bridges, one of them the “ Ponte alia 
Trinity’ confessedly the finest in the world. 

To an American, who, in his own country, 
witnesses the daily erection of tasteless and 
expensive buildings to meet the wants of an 
ever increasing population, nothing can be 
more impressive than the evidences of the 
solid wealth accumulated by centuries, pre- 
sented by a large Italian metropolis. Here 
was a city, rich in churches, public buildings, 
and palaces ; the construction of which, at 
the present day, would exhaust the treasury 
of the wealthiest potentate of Europe. “ St. 
Peter’s Church at Rome, alone,” remarks Du- 
rand, the French architect, “ has cost Italy 
millions upon millions of dollars, years of »war, 
oppression, and tyranny ! ” The riches of Italy 
are derived from the labor and wealth of the 
past. Invested in solid masonry, it remains, 


CAFFE DONEY. 


101 


constituting all the appliances of a ready-made 
civilization. Nations are like men — one gen- 
eration toils and amasses wealth ; the next 
squanders it in idleness and dissipation. When 
Carroll thought of the great minds which had 
contributed to the glory and wealth of Florence, 
those merchant princes, the Medici, Michel 
Angelo, Dante, and Galileo — he could not help 
comparing her, in her present state, to the skel- 
eton of some mighty mastodon, among whose 
bones jackals, mice, and other vermin were 
prowling about. The great frame was there, 
but the life and strength which animated it 
was departed. 

Arriving at the “ Porta San Gallo,” Carroll 
delivered his passport, and received a printed 
order to call at the Uffizio del huon governo for 
a carta di soggiorno — a license to remain in the 
city, which is required of all foreigners. He then 
was driven to the Piazza Santa Maria Antonia, 
where he had hired a floor in one of the best 
newly-constructed palaces. The court yard, on 
the ground-floor, had large stables for the ac- 
commodation of his carriage and horses. He 
had furnished the apartments at his own 
expense, and having left a cook and coach- 


102 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


man to keep his house while absent, he had 
the agreeable sensation of returning to a home. 

“ Ben trovato^ Signor Padrone^^^ said his cook, 
a middle-aged woman, who opened the door to 
welcome him. 

“ Grazie^ Teresa; are you well? — and Guli- 
elmo, the coachman ? the horses, and dogs — all 
well ? ” 

“ Tatti stanno bene^ Signore. Will the Signore 
dine ? ” asked she, speaking after the custom of 
the Italians to their superiors, in the third per- 
son. “ Had I known of his coming I should 
have provided expressly for him ; but we have a 
polio in amido^ a good minestra^ and plenty of 
fruit, cheese, and wine. I can furnish a pran- 
zino in five minutes.” 

“ Thanks, Teresa ; I have already dined. I 
wish Giovanni to prepare me a warm bath, 
which will be refreshing, after my day’s travel. I 
shall take nothing more to-day, unless some 
slight refreshment at the Caffe.” 

Invigorated by his bath, CarroU changed his 
travelling-dress for another suit, and sauntered 
forth towards the Caffe Honey. 

On his way thither he fell in with an English 
friend, a gentleman of some fifty years of age. 


CAFFE DONEY. 


103 


He was walking leisurely along, followed by a 
small white terrier slut. 

“ How are you, Otway ? ” said Carroll, as he 
came to his side. 

“ Carroll, my boy, how are you? So you 
have been to Venice ? Had a nice time? Glad 
to see you back.” Here they exchanged a cor- 
dial shake of the hand. 

“ I am glad to see Tina bright as ever,” said 
Carroll, who knew her master’s partiality for the 
intelligent little dog by his side. 

“ Thank you ; yes, she’s very well indeed. 
JBy-the-by,” said he, stopping with an air of 
great importance, “ Tina has pups.” 

“ No ! ! ” said Carroll, with an air of extreme 
gratification. 

“ Fact, sir. One of them is the very im- 
age of my poor Tim.” 

Now Tim was the canine favorite who 
had preceded Tina in her master’s affections. 
Otway who was a bachelor, having nothing 
else to love, had taken to dog-fancying, and 
Tim, being both by breed and training a 
really fine animal, had entirely engrossed his 
master’s heart. Too much pampering and 
over-feeding, however, soon ruined his consti- 


104 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


tution, and at four years of age, he had con- 
tracted a severe chronic complaint. His mas- 
ter, who could not bear to see the animal suf- 
fer, called in dog doctors, and even regular 
physicians, to relieve him. After torturing 
the poor brute by blisters, caustics, &c., for a 
month or two, they brought in bills to the 
amount of from ten to fifteen pounds, and 
the dog died. Otway took this very much to 
heart, and was for a long tirne inconsolable. 
As he was a man of much reading and some 
talent for poetry, he at last gave vent to his 
feelings in the composition of three very touch- 
ing and pathetic sonnets, which he had printed 
on satin paper, and these he gave as a mark 
of distinguished attention to those who had 
known and appreciated Tim. He had made 
a solemn vow never to have another dog, but 
an Italian coachman calling one day with 
Tina (then a puppy) and assuring Otway that 
she was indubitably a daughter of Tim, he 
broke his resolution, and purchased the little 
creature, for the moderate sum of three pounds 
sterling. She had gradually won his affections, 
and now that she had presented him with a 
puppy which might rival his grandfather, he 


CAFFE DONEY. 105 

spoke of the event with unfeigned pleasure and 
gratification. 

Carroll, who thoroughly understood his feel- 
ings, and partially sympathized with them, 
could not repress a smile, on hearing Otway’s 
exultations, which might have been mistaken 
by a passer by, for gratitude on the birth of 
a long-desired heir to a noble name. 

“Do you know what Powers says of you?” 
asked he : “ He says your love of dogs is 
nothing but philoprogenitiveness misdirected.” 

“ He be d — d,” replied Otway. “ I might, 
with more reason, say that his love of chil- 
dren is only the love of dogs, misdirected.” 

“ Bravo ! ” said Carroll, laughing heartily. 
“ I hardly know which to admire most, Pow- 
ers’s remark or your rejoinder.” “ But what 
has Tina got now,” said he, observing that 
she was scenting some offal in a corner. 

“ Drop that I ” shouted Otway to the dog. 
She immediately obeyed, and came sneaking 
to the side of her master, who brought down 
the full force of a slight rattan, with such 
effect, that she yelped and howled piteously. 

“ The nasty brute,” said Otway, in quite 
a passion. “ I cannot break her of that habit ; 


106 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


she is carefully fed three times a day, with 
every thing that is wholesome and nourishing, 
and yet is always eager to pitch into the 
first bit of garbage which falls in her way. 
Dear me, ‘ stolen waters are sweet, I suppose.’ ” 

Observing that the animal continued to 
whimper and limp a little, his heart softened 
again, and stooping down to feel of her legs, 
he began to pat and caress her. 

“ Poor little Tina,” said he, “ I do it for 
your good alone. I could not have my Tina 
make herself sick and die like poor old Tim. 
Could I Tina? No! no! Now come along 
and behave yourself properly.” 

Tina responded by a wag of the tail, and 
briskly trotting along, entered Doney’s Caffe 
before them, and quietly settled herself on 
the seat which her master usually occupied. 

Otway and Carroll, following, entered a 
crowded room, redolent of coffee, hot punch, 
and cigars. Three sides of the apartment 
were decorated by large mirrors. Under them 
ran a continuous line of divans or cushioned 
seats, in front of which were oblong marble 
tables — the seats were supplied by movable 
stools. Small round tables with marble tops, 


CAFFE DONEY. 


107 


were grouped together in the centre. In the 
left-hand corner stood a comptoir^ where the 
head waiter received the amount of money 
due from each customer, musically announced 
in a loud, shrill singing tone, by the waiters in 
attendance, “ Sei crazie si prende^ due di restoP 
In the right-hand corner, there remained two 
or three tables unoccupied. It was behind 
one of these that Tina had ensconced herself 
upon the divan. 

“ These Italians are certainly a very polite 
people,” said Otway, taking his seat by Tina’s 
side. “ They refrain from coming to this table, 
having observed that, at this hour, it is usually 
occupied by a set of foreigners, mostly artists. 
We now call this the Artists^ Corner ! It is a 
matter of pride to me to remember that I was 
the first to take a place here — merely because it 
was less exposed to draughts of air, which are 
bad for my rheumatism. You then joined me ; 
and, gradually, the other artists followed. I, 
who know nothing of art, have founded the 
‘ Artists’ Corner.’ We frequently have here the 
whole bevy of them — Gre enough. Powers, Gib- 
son, (who is here on a visit from Rome,) Mozier, 
Spencer, Kellogg, Tiffany, Rogers, Ives ; oh ! 


108 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


a host of others. I enjoy the conversations 
highly — sometimes artistical, sometimes liter- 
ary, and sometimes witty and farcical. I have 
so much idle time, that I thought seriously of 
commencing a series of ‘ Nodes Amhrosiance^ 
to be made up entirely of conversations noted 
down every morning, from memory, of the pre- 
ceding evening. Don’t you think it a good 
idea ? I was discouraged, from the total failure 
of a similar plan which, I thought, promised 
even better. You know what a trick artists 
have of sketching and drawing on these marble 
tables, whilst they are talking, or sipping their 
coffee. I have seen hundreds which were full 
of fun and talent, daily washed out by the wait- 
ers on the following morning — so I bought a 
sketch-book, a pencil, and knife. The first man 
I saw, beginning to sketch, was politely offered 
the use of them ; I told them all, that I bought 
the book merely for their accommodation. Will 
you believe me, during two months that I have 
endeavored to get them to draw in my book, I 
have had only two contributors. Perverse fel- 
lows ! ” 

“ I can easily account for that, replied Carroll ; 
“ and you will understand it at once. You, for 


CAFFE DONEY. 


109 


instance, have the reputation of having a vein 
of very original drollery. Suppose a man, on be- 
ing introduced to you, should say, ‘ Mr. Otway, 
I know you are exceedingly witty ; at your own 
convenience let me hear some of your fun’ — it 
would shut your mouth for the whole evening.” 

“ Yes ; but drawing and talking are such dif- 
ferent things,” remonstrated Otway. 

“ Not so very different as you suppose.” 

“ Well, they are a very good set of fellows, 
take them all in all ; the only bore in our coterie 
is that infernal Plum — his name should be 
Plumb, for he is as heavy as lead.” 

“ I always thought Captain Plum a very 
inoffensive man,” said Carroll. 

“ Inoffensive ! yes, so is a donkey ; but he is 
in the way — he is ignorant and stupid, always 
telling Joe Miller stories, and making bad jokes. 
Then he is as stingy as he is rich — I can’t 
abide him.” 

By this time quite a number of gay, lively, 
and accomplished young men had arrived, and 
taken seats at the tables in the “Artists’ Corner.” 
Carroll had the pleasure of greeting, cordially, 
old acquaintances, or of making new ones. 

The conversation had taken a literary turn, 


no 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


and there was an eager discussion as to the 
comparative merits of sundry authors, when 
Captain Plum, an Irish half-pay officer, of about 
sixty years of age, limped into the room, and, 
taking an empty seat, listened with an expres- 
sion of puzzled interest. 

Otway, who could not lose so favorable an 
opportunity of bantering the bore, “ What book 
do you prefer. Plum ? ” asked he. 

‘‘ My pocket book,” said the captain, with the 
air of a man who has said a good thing. 

“ You never spoke truer in your life. Plum. 
I did not know but you would say, with your 
usually happy originality, that ‘ the Bible is the 
best of books.^ ” 

“ Not I,” said Plum, with an owl-like gravity. 
“ I consider it one of the most indecent works 
ever written — it is the last one I would put into 
the hands of a young person. All the improper 
thoughts I ever had I can trace to stories in the 
Bible.” 

“ That is because you hunted them out, you 
old sinner.” 

A general roar of laughter, which ran round 
the table, induced Plum to consider himself 
worsted, and he maintained a sullen silence. 


CAFFE DONEY. 


Ill 


At this moment the group of laughing artists 
was approached by an old woman, bowed 
down and trembling with infirmities. 

With a shrill and feeble voice she addressed 
Plum with a prayer that he would bestow 
a little alms on a povera vecchia. 

Without answering her, Plum turned to 
Otway and said, “ There now, Otway, is an 
attractive object for your generous sympa- 
thies.” 

She seems needy and helpless,” replied 
Otway, “ Will you give her as much as I 
do ? ” 

“ Yes, by G — ,” said Plum, who though 
stingy, was purse-proud, and considered this 
as a challenge. 

“ Done ! ” cried Otway, putting his hand in 
his pocket and clapping on the table two solid 
silver Francesconi. 

Plum turned pale with rage, but instantly 
followed suit. Carroll and two others caught 
the infection, and in less than five seconds 
a pile of ten Francesconi was in front of the 
old woman. She stood faltering and staring 
as if she thought they were making them- 
selves merry at her expense. 


112 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Take them, my good woman,” said Ot- 
way, in the kindest of tones, “ they are 
yours.” 

With trembling eagerness, she seized the 
coin and wrapping it carefully in an old 
handkerchief, she deposited the treasure in 
her bosom. 

“ May the blessings of Jesus, the holy 
Madonna, and all the saints be showered 
down on your heads — most noble forestieri,’ 
said she, and turning to leave the Caffe with 
hurried steps, she raised her palsied hands 
to heaven, ejaculating. “ Dio Santo ! — died 
Francesconi ! ! ! ” 

Otway joined but feebly in the loud laugh 
which followed this irresistibly comic incident, 
and a tear-drop, which he hastily brushed 
from the corner of his eye, proved to Car- 
roll that his kind heart had been sensibly 
moved by the pathetic situation of a poor old 
creature, so destitute that a gift of a few 
dollars from those able to spare it, could 
throw her into a transport of frantic joy. 

Grasping his hand warmly, “ You have done 
a good thing,” said he, “ you have made one 
poor sufferer perfectly happy.” ' 


CAFFE DONEY. 


113 


“ By G — , sir,” said Plum to Carroll, “ I 
don’t call it a sell when a man sells himself. 
The fool and his money are soon parted. I’m 
thinking.” 

“ In your case, certainly,” returned Otway, 
“ for my part, I have had my money’s worth.” 

“ Will the Signore take a few matches and 
enable me to buy a little bread for my mam- 
ma,” said a sweet and persuasive girlish voice 
to Carroll. 

Turning towards the little mendicant, he 
was struck by the regularity of her features, 
and the sweetness of her expression. The 
contour of her face was faultless, and each 
feature was chiselled with the greatest delicacy. 
They were soiled by dirt, it is true, but a rich 
mantling color glowed beneath it, like the im~ 
pasto of a Titian under its glazing. Her un- 
combed hair hung in loose, luxuriant curls 
over her large, wild eyes, giving them a gypsy- 
like expression. A tattered cloak, thrown care- 
lessly over her left shoulder, completed the 
picturesqueness of her figure and attitude. 

“ There’s a fine subject for your pencil,” 
said Otway, who was equally struck by her 
beauty. 


8 


114 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Give me your sketch-book a moment. How- 
many matches must I buy to give your mother 
some bread ? ” 

“ A few crazie would be a great deal to 
me, and very — very little to the rich Signore,’’ 
she replied. 

“ And if I should buy a paul’s worth, are 
you sure it would all go for bread for mam- 
ma? no cakes or chestnuts for yourself? No! 
Well, we will see.” 

Chatting in this way, he had commenced 
a sketch ; Otway, observing this, took up the 
conversation, asking her how old she was, 
whether she had any brothers and sisters, &c. 
and in this way kept her countenance ani- 
mated, and with a natural expression, for some 
ten minutes. 

By this time Carroll had completed the out- 
line of a charming little sketch, to be finished 
from memory at leisure. 

“ That will do my dear,” said he, handing 
her a paul and taking a single bunch of 
matches. The little girl courtesied her thanks, 
and went to the opposite side of the Caffe in 
quest of other customers. 

Lighting a cigar, Carroll trimmed his pencil 


CAFFE DONEY. 


115 


and began to correct and finish his drawing. 

A little shading and modelling of the details, 
with here and there a few effective touches, 
soon finished an exquisite little drawing, 
which Otway said, repaid him for the expense 
of the book, knife, and pencil. It was passed 
around, and much admired by his brother 
artists. 

A lieutenant of the American navy, who had 
just entered with one of his countrymen, was 
extremely pleased and surprised to learn that it 
had been executed on the spot, and was a very 
true likeness of a little beggar. 

“ Where is she,” said he, wdth the rough 
voice of a sailor. “ Call her ; if she is as 
pretty as that, I will buy some of her wares.” 

“ Pst^ Pst, Zolfanelli qua ? ” called Spencer, ^ 
a young English painter, who was quite at 
home in Italian. 

The girl came with her basket, asking who 
wished any matches. 

“ Give me a half-pauPs worth,” said the 
sailor, with a voice which would serve to order 
the royals to be taken in, and scrutinizing her 
face and figure with a look of brutal sensuality. 

The young thing instinctively feeling the 


116 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


difference of his manner from that of Carroll 
and his friends, blushed, lowered her eyes, and 
with a confused and awkward air, handed him 
a few matches, and retired. 

“ By God,” said the disappointed sailor, “ if 
you call that beauty, I must say you artists 
have queer tastes. Why, I have not had even 
a half-paul’s worth — ha, ha ! ” Rising with his 
friend, he soon after left the Caff^, when 
Otway remarked : — 

“ Our naval friend evidently has no artist’s 
eye. I begin to think I have, for although there 
is nothing attractive in dirt and rags, I saw at 
once that she had real beauty, and suggested 
her to you as a subject — Eh?” 

“ True,” said Carroll. “ It is curious to re- 
flect that those who justly appreciate the beau- 
ties of a work of art, whether in painting, 
poetry, or fiction, have little or no idea of the 
materials from which it is composed. All 
would agree as to the impression made upon 
them by Petrarch’s Laura, Dante’s Beatrice, or 
Raphael’s Fornarina. They see the image as 
drawn by the poet’s description, or the painter’s 
pencil. But, could the original of these por- 
traits be brought bodily and visibly before us. 


CAFFE DONEY. 


117 


I doubt whether any two of us would agree in 
opinion. Remember the motto which Raphael 
inscribed over the Fornarina’s shop-door : ‘ Quern- 
que trahit sua voluptas ’ ; — or, as Ben Jonson 
has translated it : ‘ Every man in his humor.’ 
The true artist omits all individualities, as ex- 
ceptions to the general law of nature, and tran- 
scribes only what is broad, general, and uni- 
versal.” 

“ Why,” said Otway, with a roguish wink, 
“ even Plum, under able hands, might be ideal- 
ized into a miser, after the genuine Rembrandt 
style. A few gray hairs, and a long, silver 
beard, are all that are wanted to complete the 
character.” 

“ Well, gentlemen,” said Plum, rising, “ I wish 
you a merry evening. Much good may the 
money we have squandered on that old crone do 
her. By this time, she is probably guzzling and 
junketing with the whole of her family. I will 
venture to bet that in less than a fortnight all 
of it will be gone, and you will have her back 
here too happy to get a crazia or two.” 

“ Well, Plum,” said Otway, “ if you will 
tear yourself away, give us your hand. You 
don’t bear malice, I hope ? No ? That’s right 
— good night — take care of yourself.” 


118 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Are you not rather hard upon Plum,” said 
Carroll, after he had gone. “ You stir up his 
eccentricities only to ridicule and laugh at 
them.” 

“ I suppose I am, but I can’t help it ; I hate 
a fool. But not maliciously. Pm always doing 
things I’m sorry for, and then try to make 
amends. Didn’t you see how warmly I shook 
him by the hand ? Pshaw I his skin is thicker 
than you are aware of.” 

Carroll was on the point of leaving, when 
Otway begged him to remain a few moments 
longer. “ Here comes an improvvisatore^^'^ said 
he ; “ sometimes they are comical fellows, and 
are very amusing.” 

In the centre of the room, stood a young man 
of a remarkably smiling and pleasing coun- 
tenance. In his left hand, he held a strange- 
looking musical instrument, consisting of a long 
pole, around which a large gourd was made to 
revolve rapidly by means of a bow and string, 
similar to that by which a drill is sometimes 
driven. When set in motion, it emitted a sin- 
gular, monotonous note, between that of a bag- 
pipe and a bassoon. He was accompanied by a 
little girl, rather fantastically dressed, and carry- 


CAFFE DONEY. 


119 


ing a tambourine, which served the double pur- 
pose of accompanying the other instrument, 
and of receiving the coin which might be con- 
tributed. 

“ Signorij^ said the improvvisatore^ in a loud 
and musical voice, and speaking with a strong 
admixture of the Venetian dialect, “ I am a 
poor rhymer from Venice. With your permis- 
sion, I propose to make remarks and give de- 
scriptions of some of the personages of this 
illustrious company. If I am fortunate enough 
to describe you rightly, or say any thing appro- 
priate, you win give me the credit of a quick 
perception and readiness of expression, for I 
have never had the honor of seeing you before. 
If, in my attempts to amuse the company, I 
should make any blunders, or hit hard, you will 
please to consider them as harmless jokes, and 
made soltanto per divertere. 

So saying, he flourished away upon his in- 
strument a prelude, which caused a general roar 
of laughter ; he then began to recite a series of 
iiTegular stanzas, each one appropriate to a sin- 
gle individual, whom he selected at random 
from the crowd. Between the stanzas he would 
play a short interlude of a few seconds only, 


120 


EKNEST CARROLL. 


during which he was mentally composing a 
fresh verse. 

Carroll observed that, upon the termination 
of each verse, shouts of merriment arose from 
the friends and acquaintances of the party 
alluded to by the poet. It was evident that, 
in nine cases out of ten, he had made a good 
hit. 

Among the rest, there was a burly young 
French officer, lately returned from Algiers, who 
was standing on one of the back seats, so as to 
command a view of the scene, and peering over 
the heads of the others with a face highly 
flushed by the heat of the upper air, or the 
hearty laughter in which he had indulged. 
The improvvisatore cast a glance at him, and 
commenced as follows: — 

“ Dopo lui vien un altro, 

Che sul banco ritto sta, 

Uniforme port’ addosso 
Ed a il viso molto rosso ; 

Sia calore o sia amore, 

Mi par un gallo innamork, 

Innamork, innamork.” 

As the young Gaul was suspected of being 
^ Lothario, this hit excited roars of laugh- 
ter. It was even well received by the French- 


CAFFE DONEY. 


121 


man himself, who testified his pleasure by 
tossing a paul into the tambourine. 

He next turned to Carroll, whom he noticed 
as follows: — 

“ Quel Zoving poi, col viso bello, 

Nascosto sott’ ii su capello, 

Par dall viazzo un poco stance, 

Se non isbaglio, e artista, 

Ed un bravo colorista ; 

Dalle dame ruba il cuore. 

A me mi pare un Signore 
Di prime range, 

Di pr-r-rimo range ! ” 

“ That compliment is also worth a paul,” 
said Carroll. 

“ It will cost you two,” remarked Otway. 
“ Remember that Italians always expect to be 
paid in proportion to the supposed rank of Sig- 
nori — a student gets abbonato at the theatre for 
about thirty pauls; a duke or marquis must 
pay three hundred for the same.” 

It was now Otway’s turn. 

“ Quel altro poi al suo fianco 
Ha un canine, bel e bianco 
A cui carezze spesso fa : 

La sua gran cura e diligenza 
Han date al can’ intelligenza 
Di prima quality, 

Di prima qualita.” 


122 


ERNEST -CARROLL. 


“As he has had the good sense to compliment 
Tina instead of her master, I shall give him a 
couple of pauls, also. Had he wasted his com- 
pliments on me, a single crazia should have 
been his reward. Now, if you like, I am ready 
to go.” 

As they passed out, they dropped their con- 
tributions into the tambourine, which were 
gratefully acknowledged by a low bow from the 
poetaster. 

The two friends parting at the door, shook 
hands and exchanging good nights, bent their 
steps homeward, in opposite directions and with 
opposite trains of thought. Otway meditating 
a fourth sonnet to the departed Tim, and 
Carroll repeating, 

“ If sometimes in the haunts of men, 

Thine image from my breast may fade, 

The lonely hour presents again 
The semblance of thy gentle shade.” 

as the image of the fair princess effaced from 
his memory the varied events of the day. 


THE ACADEMY. 


123 


CHAPTER 11. 

THE ACADEMY. 

AN EFFIGY OF A NOTABLE WRITER ; 

OR AN F-I-G FOR A not-ahU critic. 

The chapters of a novel, like the acts of a 
drama, enable the author to pass over any por- 
tion of time not essential to the development 
of the plot. Three months of assiduous appli- 
cation and study of his art, had not only re- 
warded Carroll with a consciousness of great 
improvement, but had restored to him his usual 
serenity and cheerfulness of temper. If the 
memory of his adventure in Venice was occa- 
sionally revived, the events were crowded into so 
brief a space of time, and were so out of the 
common order of things, that they seemed to 
him like a feverish dream from which he had 
thoroughly awakened. Study occupied his se- 
rious thoughts, and exercise and a genial social 
intercourse with a host of friends, amused and 
relaxed his mind in moments of leisure. 

Towards the middle of December his friend 


124 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Spencer called and invited him to join an asso- 
ciation of artists and amateurs who proposed 
to get up a private-life academy for study of 
the rnido — a practice very essential to those 
who would master a knowledge of the human 
figure. 

“We have some ten or twelve English and 
Americans,” said he ; “ and as many more of 
Italians, French, and Germans. The expenses, 
divided among us, will be small, and we shall 
have a nice time — ^will you join us ? or perhaps 
you prefer going to the opera.” 

“ Oh, no ; I should be sorry to lose so favora- 
ble an opportunity to improve, and to make a 
more familiar acquaintance with my brother 
artists. What models have you ? ” 

“We have three or four very good ones ; the 
best of them is the Frenchman, known by the 
sobriquet of ‘P Apollon.’” 

“ His figure and limbs are very fine,” said 
Carroll ; “ what a pity his head is so out of 
keeping with them. No one, seeing him 
dressed, would ever imagine him an Adonis.” 

“ He amused me very much,” replied Spen- 
cer, who was an admirable mimic, “ by the 
ndivetS with which he mentioned the subject 


THE ACADEMY. 


125 


to me, the other day. After discussing the 
points of his personal beauty, as coolly as 
if he had been speaking of another person, 
‘ J/ faut se connaitrej said he, ‘ moi je me con- 
nais jusqu'un point. Tai un beau tronc^ des 
beaux bras^ belles jambes^ les extremites deli- 
cates et bien formees^ la taille svelte et elegante — 
mais^ — here he paused — ‘ mais la fete ignoble ! 
Voildr^^ 

‘‘ He might have said, la tete d'un singe, 
said Carroll, laughing heartily. 

“ There is something very amusing in the 
vanity of these professional models. It is 
quite natural, however, that they should be 
proud of being selected by artists on account 
of their fine forms, good proportions, or some 
distinguishing grace of person. I met old Vin- 
cenzo the other day, and thinking I should like 
to try my hand at the head of an old man, 
asked if he could give me a sitting. ‘ Not 
this week, Signore,’ said he. ‘ Bezzuoli has 
done me the honor to engage me as a model 
for the Padre Eterno ! Me ! ’ said he, laying 
his forefinger upon his breast, to emphasize 
the compliment. When do we meet ? ” 

“ This evening. I will join you at six, at 


126 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Doney’s, and we will go together — good morn- 
ing.” 

Punctual to the hour, the two friends repaired 
to the Academy. A large room, in the upper 
story of a house in the Mercato Nuovo had 
been hired for the season. Here they found be- 
tween twenty and thirty members assembled. 
On one side of the room stood a small platform, 
on which the model was to pose ; overhead was 
suspended a large lamp of many burners, with 
a reflector which served to concentrate the light 
into a strong focus, and to screen it from the 
eyes of the students. Around the platform, at 
the distance of some ten or twelve feet, chairs 
were ranged in a semicircle — each chair had in 
front a small dining table, with paper, crayons, 
&c. and a lamp-stand. 

Spencer was, by acclamation, appointed 
pose-master for the week. Selecting a seat 
for himself and Carroll, “ Gentlemen,” said he, 
“ please take your places.” Turning to the 
model, “ Spoglia or Strip, was the laconic 
order. Placing in his right hand a long staff, 
“ you will please to consider this as a thyrsus. 
The action is to be that of a Bacchante repos- 
ing after a dance. Something of this sort,” 


THE ACADEMY. 


127 


giving him an idea of the attitude. The model 
immediately threw himself into an attitude full 
of grace and expression. “ Bravo ! ” shouted 
the admiring artists, and gave him a round of 
applause. They who know the naked human 
form only by occasional glimpses caught at 
some-bathing place by the river-side, where, 
despoiled of the clothing, (which habit has 
made a second nature,) it moves awkwardly 
and shrinkingly to and from the water, have no 
idea of the majesty and beauty of a fine model 
posing in an effective and graceful attitude. 
To an artist, nothing is more exciting, than the 
study of the nudo. The strong, artificial light, 
concentrated upon the figure, throws it into 
broad masses, infinitely varied by the most 
subtle details. The gradations from high light, 
through semi-tints, to shadows and reflexes, are 
to the painter’s eye a most melodious gamut of 
light, shade, and color. He sees before him a 
picture, such as was never transferred by the 
hand of man to canvas. It seems impossible 
not to catch something of that grace and 
beauty which grows under his eye, as he 
endeavors to copy it. His knowledge and 
facility of handling, increasing almost from 


128 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


moment to moment, he works assiduously and 
con amore^ to the very brink of exhaustion. 

Such was the state of feeling by which this 
little band of enthusiasts was now totally en- 
grossed. For ten or fifteen minutes not a word 
was spoken, not a sound was heard, except the 
creaking of the crayon, as some experienced 
draughtsman boldly dashed in his masses of 
light and shadow. They were all busily en- 
gaged in blocking out and correcting their out- 
lines. When this was done, conversation was 
resumed. 

“ I shall confine myself to a study of the 
outlines alone,” said Carroll. “ This is the 
essential point, the sine qua non of a draughts- 
man. The shading with chalks is, after all, but 
idle work, and can be done much better by the 
brush than the crayon.” 

“ I believe you are right,” said Spencer, 
“ but it requires great courage ; it is horribly 
exhausting. It is an exercise I need very 
much. How I wish I could dash off an outline 
like young Sabatelli.” 

“ He was the decorator of the Stanza di 
Glove, at the Pitti, I believe,” asked Carroll. 

“ Yes ! His father, who is an eminent artist. 


THE ACADEMY. 


129 


determined early to make him a fine draughts- 
man. Every morning, he would give him some 
cast from nature, or the antique, and with a 
piece of bread and a glass of water, he would 
lock him up in his chamber. ‘ You can make a 
careful outline of this in two or three hours,’ 
he would say. ‘ When you have done so, ring 
the bell, and your work for the day is over.’ 
The boy would very naturally amuse himself 
for a while by catching flies, or looking out of 
the window. Finally, however, he became 
tired of being alone, and would set seriously to 
work. The consequence of this training was, 
that at the age of eighteen or nineteen, he 
could draw with a pen and ink with as much 
accuracy as most artists do with the crayon. 
He was sent to Rome to finish his studies. On 
his first visit to the Accademia del nudo^ he came 
with a portfolio, pen, ink, and paper only. 
Two or three artists, who found it difficult 
enough to draw with all the appliances of 
tables, bread to rub out with, &c., were much 
amused by his seeming audacity, and stood 
tittering behind him. Without appearing to 
notice them, he leisurely took his pen, and be- 
ginning at the toe, soon dotted out an exquisite 


9 


130 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


outline of the figure ; by cross-hatching he in- 
dicated the masses of shadow. At the end of 
the evening, he had finished a drawing which 
looked like a highly-studied engraving. The 
artists flocked around him in admiration, and 
seizing him by main force, bore him on their 
shoulders to the Caffe Greco^ where they 
toasted him as the first draughtsman of Italy.” 

“ Glorious ! ” exclaimed Carroll. 

“ Mr. Carroll,” said young Holland, “ who 
had just had a short discussion on some mat- 
ter of art, with an Italian at the other end of 
the room, “ I suppose you have read Mr. Rus- 
kin’s books. What do you think of them ? ” 

“ Shall I tell you candidly ? ” said Carroll, 
who had overheard enough of the conversa- 
tion to perceive that Holland’s ideas were 
somewhat obfuscated by the assthetical dogmas 
of this self-constituted judge. “ I think that Rus- 
kin has done more harm to Art than can be 
repaired by the writings of all the best critics 
in England.” 

“ Seriously ? You must confess that he has 
an exquisite style.” 

“And for that very reason. He has the art 
to make ‘ the worse appear the better cause,’ 


THE ACADEMY. 


131 


He is full of sophistries and contradictions. As 
a lawyer, he would have made an excellent 
special pleader, and as a clergyman, he would 
have been distinguished for his eloquence and 
the hair splitting of his fine-spun metaphysics ; 
but in art he has no knowledge, and I am 
convinced that he has no capacity for under- 
standing its first principles. How beautifully 
Sir Joshua Reynolds proves that there is a 
standard of taste, and that it is to be found 
in the consenting verdict of the universal 
voice of the civilized world ! It is to this alone 
that Homer and Shakspeare owe their glorious 
fame. Now observe how widely this upstart 
critic differs from Sir Joshua. Since the day 
when the clown, reclining under the shade of 
an oak inveighed against the established or- 
der of nature, no one has equalled the plau- 
sibility with which he has brayed forth doc- 
trines and arguments to prove that the rank 
and position assigned to the old masters by 
the universal consent of centuries, ought to 
be reversed. By him the pigmy names of Ti- 
tian, Tintoret, Paul Veronese, Poussin, and 
Claude, are condemned to trad in dust and 
dirt on the ground, while the pumpkin gran- 


132 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


deur of Turner is elevated to the tree-top. 
He has blasphemed all our household gods 
and set up new idols. His Seven Lamps of 
Architecture is the greatest farrago of nonsense 
ever written. Take, for instance, the chapter 
called, if I remember rightly, the ‘ Lamp of 
Expense,’ in which he argues that in buildings 
of a religious character, the employment of 
materials of great rarity and cost, as indicat- 
ing a voluntary sacrifice, constitutes a corre- 
sponding merit in the work. Judging by this 
rule, the Medicean Chapel, with its costly 
mosaics, fi*escoes, and fretted marbles, must 
rank above the Laurentian Chapel, with the 
severely Doric architecture and sublime sculp- 
ture of Michel Angelo. Can anything be more 
absurd? He has written, I grant, much that 
is new, and much that is true — unfortunately, 
all that is true is not new, and all that is 
new is not true. I am not aware of a single 
precept or remark, in all that I have had the 
patience to read, which can be of the slightest 
practical use to an artist.” 

“ Oh,” said Spencer, “ he is an ass, and 
ought to be hung or burned in effigy.” 

Why, how is it, then,” asked Holland, “ that 
he enjoys so high a reputation?” 


THE ACADEMY. 


133 


“ Simply/’ said Carroll, “ because his readers 
and admirers are made up of that class of 
people who know nothing of art. His verbiage 
Heaves them with admiration in their mouths 
and vacancy in their hearts.’ With artists 
he has no authority. His errors have been 
clearly demonstrated by able critics in England, 
but to write him down you must write two 
lines for every one of his. ‘ Le jeu ne vaut 
pas la chandelley^ 

The academy broke up at half-past eight, 
and Spencer remarking that the late unusual 
cold had frozen the Arno, proposed that they 
should seize the opportunity of enjoying an 
unusual and rare sport, namely, that of skat- 
ing. “ You, Carroll, must be a skater, will 
you join us ? ” 

“ With all my heart, but I regret I have no 
skates. I never dreamed of skating in Flo- 
rence.” 

I have a pair at your service. There are 
a number of English here, who often skate 
on the Ghiacciaia, outside of the walls. My 
room is in a central position, and they keep 
their skates there — we will drop in, on our 
way.” 


134 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


It was a fine, moonlight evening, and some 
ten or twelve English and Americans having 
fitted themselves with skates, at Spencer’s room, 
made at once for the Arno. Observing that 
Spencer was collecting some old summer 
clothing, Carroll asked what he was going 
to do. 

“ Keep dark ! ” replied he ; “ we will have 
some merry sport, this evening.” 

The skaters were followed by nearly all the 
members of the academy — all eager to witness 
the sport, especially the Italians, who expressed 
great curiosity to see the “ Inglesi ballare sul 
ghiaccio,^^ 

Their skates were soon adjusted, and a bon- 
fire was kindled in the centre of the river. 
Spencer, who was the life and soul of the 
evening’s sport, dispatched two young birri- 
chini to a neighboring cook-shop, to purchase 
a couple of pair of fowls, which he spitted on 
two stakes, and told the boys to roast them at 
the fire. Calling to a third boy, who looked 
wistfully on, ‘‘ 0/i, bimbo^^ said he, “ go and 
buy me a half-paul’s worth of straw, and a 
little twine ; make haste, and you shall have a 
crazia and a bit of chicken.” 


THE ACADEMY. 


135 


The boy returned in a few minutes, and 
Spencer soon contrived to stuff the clothes he 
had brought into a very respectable image 
of a man. An old hat, jammed down upon 
the head, gave to the figure a comical air of 
reality. 

“ These bands,” said Spencer, adjusting a 
couple of slips of paper to the neck-cloth, “ are 
typical of the sanctimonious cant, by means of 
which' Ruskin imposes on bigoted old women, 
leading them to suppose that he is descanting 
learnedly on art, while he is only retailing bits 
worthy to figure in some country parson’s 
sermon.” 

“ So, then, that is an effigy of Ruskin. Cosa 
fa^ Spencer,” asked one of the Italians. 

“ This, Signore,” said Spencer, in Italian, “is 
the effigy of an ass of an English critic, who 
has written a big work to prove that Titian, 
Paul Veronese, and all the old masters, were 
poor daubers, in comparison with one Turner, 
a water-color painter.” 

“ Oh I che asinaccio ! ” exclaimed the Italian, 
“ lo tratteremo da Giuda^ traditore deW arte ” — 
“ We will treat him like Judas, as a traitor to 
art.” 


136 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


If the reader has ever been in an Italian or 
Spanish sea-port, on Good Friday, when the 
sailors amuse themselves on board of their 
vessels by maltreating the effigy of Judas 
Iscariot, he can form some idea of the sport 
which followed. Carroll and Spencer, each 
taking the figure by an arm, skated around, 
dragging it along between them. The others 
followed, skating or running behind, bestowing 
kicks and cuffs without mercy. “ Abbasso, il 
(xiuda Rooschino ! ” shouted the Italians. 
Poor Ruskin was dropped, and kicked from 
one party to another, like a foot-ball — shouts 
of laughter arose not only from those who were 
enjoying the sport, but from the crowds of 
spectators who lined the Lung‘d Arno^ and 
watched their proceedings. The police, ever 
on the alert, seeing the clerical bands, began to 
fancy that some insult to the priesthood was 
intended. Spencer soon quieted their appre- 
hension by assuring them, gravely, that they 
were playing the game of Judas only, after the 
English fashion — and invited them to join. 
They were soon the most active participants 
in the sport, until the figure, beginning to lose 


THE ACADEMY. 


137 


its shape, was consigned to the flames amidst 
hoots, hisses, and groans from all sides. 

Carroll retired, leaving Spencer cutting up 
and dispensing hissing portions of roast fowl 
and bread, which were washed down by copious 
draughts of Florentine wine. 


138 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


CHAPTER III. 

ALLSTON. 

A FEW days afterwards, as Carroll was cross- 
ing the Pitti Square, he remembered that he 
owed a call in that neighborhood. A week 
or two previously, he had been employed in 
making a study from a Giorgione, in the Gal- 
lery of. the Uffizii. An elderly gentleman of 
a very pleasing address, after complimenting 
his work, remarked, “ I perceive that you are 
an admirer of Giorgione. I am a Venetian, 
and consider myself fortunate in the possession 
of two very fine pieces from his hand, besides 
some Titians, Paul Veroneses, and others, 
which you may think worthy of examination. 
Perhaps you would do me the favor to call. 
He then gave a card with his name and ad- 
dress : 

“ L’ Abbate Belotti, 

Piazza Pitti, 94, 

Primo Piano.” 


ALLSTON. 


139 


Ringing at the portone^ the shrill voice of a 
female domestic was heard to ask, “ Chi e ? 
on his giving the usual answer, “ Amici , the 
door was opened by the jerk of a cord con- 
nected with the upper story, and Carroll en- 
tered. Passing up a flight of stairs, he found 
\he Abbate’s name. Here he rung again and 
the door was opened by the Abbate himself. 

He was a tall, thin, and spare man of about 
sixty-five years of age, dressed in a genteel 
suit of black, and wearing a small black vel- 
vet skull-cap fitting closely to his silvery head. 

“ Delighted to see you. Signore — pray, be 
seated.” After a few common-place remarks, 
the old man kindly pointed out what he con- 
sidered the gems of his collection. Carroll 
was warm in the expression of his admira- 
tion, which went directly to the Venetian’s 
heart. He was proud of his pictures, as well 
he might be. Although a poor priest, he had 
late in life inherited art treasures, which a 
prince might envy. With a highly cultivated 
taste and knowledge of art, they were in his 
eyes of inestimable value, and yet the increas- 
ing wants of old age made it necessary from 
time to time, to sell off a favorite specimen to 


140 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


meet his exigencies. On these occasions he 
would take to his bed, and starve himself 
for two or three days, when he would at length 
send for some dealer and part with a picture, 
with as much reluctance as if it were the last 
tooth in his head, at less than half of its real 
value. 

‘‘ I congratulate you on the wealth of your 
possessions. I have seldom seen so brilliant 
and choice a collection.’’ 

“ Alas ! yes,” replied he, “ I am aware of 
their intrinsic value, but at my age, and with 
my little knowledge of business matters, I 
have been obliged to sacrifice them cruelly. I 
came to Florence in the hopes of finding 
forestieri^ with taste and money enough to 
purchase my pictures at prices which would 
give them bargains and relief to my wants. 
Thus far, I have been the victim of sharpers 
and speculators. If the Signore has friends 
who are able to buy fine pictures, I hope he 
will deign to remember me.” 

“ My countrymen are seldom blessed with 
colossal fortunes,” said Carroll. “ The English 
are much more likely to become purchasers. 
At what price do you estimate this Titian? 


/ 


ALLSTON. 


141 


“ Does the Signore think eight hundred scudi 
an extravagant price ? ” asked the Abbate with 
a timid and inquiring look. 

“ By no means ! and if you are ready to 
part with it at that price, I shall be most 
happy to make the acquisition.” 

The Abbate grasped his hand, and said, 
‘ You shall have it, were it worth ten times 
the sum, because you have praised it, instead 
of depreciating it as dealers never fail to do. 
Whenever I have sold a picture to a dealer, 
I fancy myself Gil Bias endeavoring to sell 
his horse. “ Combien prStendez vous pour ce 
vil animal Id?^^ is the keynote of their hag- 
gling.” 

“ I will confess to you candidly, that I think 
it worth much more money.” 

“ You have a bargain. Signore, a great bar- 
gain, but I am satisfied and grateful. Eight 
hundred scudi will last me a long, long time.” 
The Venetian manner and dialect in which 
the old man spoke, recalled to Carroll’s mem- 
ory the late singular adventure in Venice, 
which he had endeavored to banish from his 
mind. Informing the Abbate that he had vis- 
ited Venice during the last summer, he spoke 


142 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


with enthusiasm of its richness in architecture 
and paintings. He asked questions relating to 
some of the notable families, and in the course 
of the conversation, he carelessly remarked that 
the handsomest woman he had seen there was 
(as he had learned on inquiry) the Princess 
Zerlinski. 

“ Ah ! I believe you,” said the old man, with 
sparkling eyes, “ and as good as she is beau- 
tiful, she is an angel.” 

“ Really,” said Carroll, with some surprise, 
“ I was given to understand, I know not on 
what authority, that she was a donna capric- 
ciosa^ and noted for her gallantries.” 

“ Shameful,” said the Abbate, indignantly. 
“ This is only a specimen of that scandalous 
gossip which invariably attaches itself to the 
name of every woman remarkable for her 
beauty and accomplishments. The princess 
has honored me with her esteem and friend- 
ship. I know her to be possessed of every 
grace and virtue. It is true, she has had many 
admirers ; a woman of her beauty, neglected 
by her husband, is always exposed to imper- 
tinent advances from the vain and frivolous. 
By her uniform dignity and talent she has 


ALLSTON. 


143 


been enabled to keep such men at a distance, 
and their disappointed self-love may have re- 
venged itself by the invention and promulga- 
tion of vile calumny. Some two or three 
years since she gave her hand to the Prince 
Zerlinski, a man of high rank and fortune. 
They were no sooner married than he treated 
her with shameful neglect. She soon found 
that she could not love him, and ceased even to 
respect him. He was a strange combination 
of two very opposite characters — a most pen- 
urious miser and a sensual libertine. Find- 
ing herself denied the sympathy and kind- 
ness which she had craved and expected to 
find in matrimony, she has for the last two 
years lived as completely separate from her 
husband as if they were total strangers. And 
yet she has preserved her name unsullied 
and spotless. I have frequently been her al- 
moner, and have known her in cases of pe- 
culiar distress, to give her own time and per- 
sonal services with a cheerfulness and devo- 
tion worthy a martyr. Oh, no ! no ! no ! Sig- 
nore Carroll, never believe these calumnies, 
take the word of an honest old man, who is 
not easily deceived.’’ 


144 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Carroll shook him by the hand with sincere 
and undisguised pleasure. The princess had 
been reinstated in his estimation. It was 
flattery to his self-love to believe, that the pas- 
sion which she had felt for him was truly of the 
heart, and sincere. He made allowances for the 
difference of customs and religion between 
them, and wondered that he could have judged 
her so harshly. He blushed to think that jeal- 
ousy and suspicion had made him appear in her 
eyes ungrateful, if not boorish. Suddenly it 
occurred to him, that the falsehood of which 
she had been guilty, when she had informed 
him, in direct terms, that her husband was 
dead, was hardly in accordance with the char- 
acter which the Abbate had ascribed to her. 
“ Heigh-ho ! ” sighed he, “ this is a strange world 
we live in ! ” 

On his way homeward, Carroll met Spencer. 
“ Ah, Spencer, how comes on your new picture, 
‘ The Vendemmia ? ’ ” 

“ Confound it ! ’’ said Spencer, who was more 
remarkable for a lively versatility of talent than 
for diligent perseverance, “ I have got into a 
mess this morning, and have left it for sight- 
seeing. I find it always refreshes my eye to 


ALLSTON. 


145 


look at fine pictures. Have you ever seen 
Bruce’s collection ? ” 

“ No. Who is Bruce ? ” 

“ A rich, old English painter. He has a very 
fine collection which you ought to see. Besides, 
he is quite a character. The old man is very 
happy to have his pictures seen by good judges, 
and I will introduce you. He has lived so long 
in Italy, that he is quite denationalized. He is 
constantly railing at the English, and praising 
the Italians. He has adopted all their vices, 
most particularly that of lying. His mind is 
of that peculiar order which sees everything 
through such an exaggerating medium, that in 
the narration of an actual fact, he embellishes 
to such a degree, that he makes it entirely 
different. He tells a lie with so much minute 
and circumstantial detail, that he is seldom sus- 
pected. The other day, at the Caffd, he was as 
usual railing his countrymen, when I remarked, 
that in the mechanic arts they were very supe- 
rior to the Italians.” 

“ To those of the present day, I grant you,” 
said he; “because they are ground down by 
poverty and oppression. It was a different 
state of things under the Medici.” 

10 


146 


ERNEST CARROUL. 


“ I was alluding to the common conveniences 
of life,” said I ; “ their hardware, such as 

hinges, window-fastenings, and locks and keys.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Bruce, drawing from his pocket 
the key of a strong box, which he had imported 
from England only two months before, “ there 
is the key of an old cabinet, designed by Or- 
gagna. The workmanship is perfect, and the 
temper of the steel such that it looks as if it 
had been used only a couple of months, instead 
of as many centuries.” 

“ That is very extraordinary,” said I, “ it looks 
like an English key.” 

“ And full two hundred years old ! ” con- 
tinued he, bending his head forward, and look- 
ing me directly in the eye, as he always does, 
when he tells a thumper. 

“ What an umusing character,” said Carroll. 
“ You say he is rich ; did he make a fortune 
by his profession ? ” 

“ He has always commanded high prices for 
his paintings ; but he has made the most of 
his money by dealing in pictures. He visited 
Spain in the train of one of Bonaparte’s gen- 
erals, who depended much on his judgment and 
skill. It is said that he took occasion to feather 


ALLSTON. 


147 


his own nest very well. He has a wonderful 
eye for discerning the real merits of an old pic- 
ture, which many good judges would pass by as 
rubbish. He knows all the picture-dealers, and 
has the first sight of their wares. Whenever he 
purchases for a few scudi a picture, which turns 
out to be worth a thousand, he will call a day 
or two after, and say, “ That picture which I 
bought of you for two scudi^ I sold to a block- 
head of an Englishman for one hundred. It is 
fair that you should share the profits with me ; 
here are fifty scudi for you.’’ In this way, he is 
hand and glove with them all. At this moment 
he has many really choice specimens of the old 
masters. Among them, a Leonardo da Vinci, 
two Raphaels, two Paul Veroneses, a Correggio, 
and a Giorgione. 

By this time they had arrived at the portone 
of a large and signorial-looking palace, situated 
in a street so dark and narrow, that it seemed 
strange to find such a building in such a site ; 
but Carroll, following Spencer, observed that 
the rear of the palace faced the south, and 
abutted upon a large garden filled with fine 
shrubs and blooming flowers, although it was 
now nearly January. 


148 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Bruce made a capital purchase here,” said 
Spencer ; “ he paid only seven thousand scudi 
for this palace, which must have cost at least 
sixty thousand.” 

They found the old man in his library, with 
his back to a large sunny window, reading the 
morning’s Galignani. On a table, by his side, 
stood a silver coffee-service and a huge gold 
snuff-box. 

“ Delighted to see you, and to make the 
acquaintance of your friend,” said he, when 
Carroll was presented as an American artist. 
“ Will you take a cup of coffee ? To me it 
is the grand staple of life — it is a panacea for 
every thing. If I am indolent, a cup of coffee 
excites me, and makes me work con amove; 
if I am jaded and fatigued, a cup of coffee 
refreshes and restores my spirits.” 

As they were sipping their coffee, he re- 
marked, “ I wish you had been here sooner ; 
that littlfe thing,” pointing to a poor, starved, 
dispirited looking nightingale, “ has, for the last 
two hours, been singing as if it would split 
its little throat ; but now, she has once stopped, 
nothing could induce her to sing again.” 


ALLSTON. 


149 


“ Indeed,” said Spencer ; “ I had an idea that 
the nightingale sang only at night.” 

“ In their wild state, perhaps,” said Bruce ; 
“ but domestication reverses the habits of all 
birds and animals — so I was assured by BufFon, 
or some other great naturalist.” 

Here Spencer gave Carroll a wink, which 
seemed to say, “ that’s out of the whole cloth.” 

“ You are an American, you say,” said he. 
“ Did you happen to know an old friend of 
mine, Washington Allston?” 

“ Very well,” said Carroll ; “ I owe to him all 
the really valuable knowledge of my art which 
I have. From his conversation and advice I 
have derived information which has saved me 
much vain labor and groping in the dark.” 

‘‘I make no doubt of it. Allston was not 
only a thorough artist, but a most accom- 
plished gentleman and scholar. His manners 
were those of a nobleman. Etiquette sat upon 
him like a familiar every-day garment, rather 
than a stiff holiday suit, as is too often the 
case. We were inseparable ; at Rome, my dear 
sir, they called us Damon and Pythias.” 

He then conducted them into an adjoining 
apartment, where Carroll was astonished to find, 


150 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


in the possession of a private gentleman, pic- 
tures which a monarch might covet. He was 
loud in his praises, which were so just and 
discriminating, that he won the heart of the 
old man, who was now in high spirits. 

“ It is a great pleasure to show my pictures 
to good judges. Nine out of ten of the Eng- 
lish who come here, (d — n their souls,) look 
upon them with open mouths,’^ — here he let 
drop his lower lip, and threw a look of stolidity 
into his expression, which was a most ludicrous 
caricature of the English manner — “ and as 
cold an eye, be God, as if they were choosing a 
haddock in the fish-market !’’ He rattled on in 
this vein, interlarding his satirical remarks with 
oaths and curses, which showed Carroll that, in 
this respect at least, he was a gentleman of the 
old school. 

The Rev. Mr. Sparrow was announced. 
“ My dear sir,’’ said Bruce, taking his hand, 
and speaking in the mildest and blandest of 
tones, “ how very kind of you to do me this 
pleasure.” 

Carroll was admiring the Leonardo da Vinci, 
and pointed out to the clergyman some of its 
beauties. 


ALLSTON. 


151 


“ Ah, my dear sir,” said Bruce, “ it is a gen- 
uine Leonardo ; I was offered, in exchange for 
it, a palace worth twelve thousand scudi ; but 
it is time for me to be thinking of a palace on 
high.” 

There was something so ludicrous in the 
contrast between this little speech and the 
cursing and swearing which had preceded the 
entrance of the reverend gentleman, that Carroll 
could scarcely repress his laughter, as Spencer 
gave him a sharp nudge with his elbow. 

Mr. Sparrow made a very short call. “ Pray, 
be seated,” said Bruce, when he had gone. “ I 
want to talk to you about Allston.” 

“ Mr. Bruce,” asked Spencer, “ have you any 
objection to my making a slight sketch of this 
composition?” 

‘‘On the contrary, you are very welcome.” 

While Spencer was busily engaged with his 
sketch-book, Bruce resumed, “ Mr. Allston is 
no longer alive, I believe.” 

“ He died some five years ago. His death 
was an irreparable loss to our artists. He 
was so kind, and ready to impart his knowl- 
edge, that he was worshipped as the king and 
master. His words had the double weight of 


152 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


persuasion and authority ; and it was impossi- 
ble not to feel that his merit was equal to his 
modesty. I shall always consider it as the 
greatest privilege of my life to have known 
him.” 

“ Did he leave many works ? ” asked Bruce. 

“ Not a great number. But, considering the 
finished and varied character of them, and the 
amount of study required to produce them, he 
must be considered not only an industrious, but 
a prolific painter.” 

“ He ought to have remained in England,” 
said Bruce. “ I cannot help thinking, that he 
made a mistake in leaving a country, where he 
twice received the first prize from the National 
Institute, and where his reputation had been es- 
tablished by such pictures as he painted for Sir 
George Beaumont, the Earl of Egremont, and 
the Marquis of Stafford. These pictures were 
all of the highest order, and all new, original, 
and distinctive creations. What is the char- 
acter of the works he left in America ? ” 

“ They are as varied in their character as the 
pieces you have just mentioned. Landscapes, 
cabinet pieces, and ideal heads. Although he 
spoke of these works as of minor importance, 


ALLSTON. 


153 


we must judge him by these principally, for the 
large picture of Belshazzar's Feasts the grand 
object of his life and ambition, was not only 
never finished, but presents a combination of 
two different designs ; the first half erased, and 
the second only partially executed, so that an 
artist alone can comprehend its real beauties 
and merits. I have often wished that I could 
see one of his finest heads, such as that of 
Beatrice^ Rosalie^ or Isaac of York^ placed by the 
side of one of the old masters. His drawing is 
so fine, his coloring so rich and harmonious, and 
his tone so mellow, that I cannot doubt that 
they would hold their own, as we say.” 

“ When I knew him,” said Bruce, “ he was 
completely absorbed in studying the processes 
by which the master colorists produced their 
effects. Did he continue this eager study, or 
had he settled down into a regular system ? ” 

“ During the last fifteen or twenty years of 
his life, he had worked upon a system which 
seemed to him not only philosophical, but in 
accordance with the practice of the best mas- 
ters. I shall never forget the world of light 
which burst upon me, when he first explained 
to me its principles.” 


154 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Let US hear it,” said Spencer, eagerly. 
“ Some other time. I fear that such prosaic 
details, however interesting to us students, must 
be exceedingly uninteresting to an old artist 
like Mr. Bruce.” 

“ Not at all,” said Bruce. “ An artist is 
always interested in these subjects, and the 
various modes by which different painters pro- 
duce their effect, have always a peculiar charm 
for me.” 

“ ‘ My system of coloring,’ said Allston to me 
one evening, ‘ is one which I have practised for 
nearly twenty years. I am perfectly satisfied 
with it, because it is capable of producing more 
varied effects than my life will ever allow me to 
put in practice. To give you a clear idea of 
my method, I must first explain my theory. 
You are aware, that light is composed of three 
primitive colors — yellow, red, and blue. The 
mixture of any two of these forms the binary 
colors — orange, purple, and green. The admix- 
ture of all three forms the tertians^ which vary 
from one another, only by a predominance of 
different portions of the ingredients. Olive, 
russet, citrine, and maroon, are all neutral, ex- 
cepting so far as some one or two of the 


ALLSTON. 


155 


previous colors predominate. Now, you must 
have observed, that in natural objects, a posi- 
tively pure yellow, red, or blue, is never to be 
found. The harmonious variety of a land- 
scape arises from a combination of an infinite 
number of broken colors. It is still more re- 
markable in the coloring of the human flesh. 
In the finest complexion there is no positive 
color. The mass of light, the middle tints, and 
shadows, all show a prevalence of the three col- 
ors. These are partly local, as the red of the lips 
and cheeks, and the blue of a vein, and partly 
prismatic, as the warmth of a reflex, or the 
cool, bluish tint which joins the shadow. They 
glow with a brilliancy which it seems almost 
impossible to imitate with our opaque pig- 
ments. When these pigments are ground to- 
gether by the pallet-knife, a dull neutral hue is 
made, which bears no resemblance to the spark- 
ling and tender tint of flesh. And now, for my 
method. I prepare my pallet with the three 
primitive colors — yellow, red, and blue, in their 
natural order, with white at the top of the 
scale, and black at the bottom. For yellows, I 
employ Naples yellow, or either of the ochres ; 
for red, vermilion and Indian red, and ultra- 


156 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


marine for my blue. By the mixture of white 
with each of the primitive colors, I make three 
grades of tints, which, with the pure pigment, 
form a regular scale of four notes. These I call 
virgin tints. Lastly, taking pure yellow, red, 
and blue, I mix them to a neutral color, which 
may be called olive. A little Indian red and 
black, serve to deepen the tone of this olive, 
when required. Having carefully sketched in 
a head, I paint all the positive shadows with 
olive, in a good solid body, the half tints I go 
over more slightly, so as to get up the general 
effect of chiaroscuro. Taking on my brush a 
little of the lowest of each of the virgin tints, 
I mix them gently, on my pallet, and paint into 
my shadows. A like mixture of the next 
higher tints, fill in the half tints, and the highest 
occupy the place of the mass of light. You 
will understand, of course, that in the mixture 
of these hues, I use less blue than red and yel- 
low. It is true that blue is used in every part 
of the face, but there is a predominance of 
red and yellow, which imitates the warmth of 
flesh color. 

“ ‘ Having prepared my head in this manner, 
I blend the colors with a softener, and then 


ALLSTON. 


157 


compare my head with the model ; if the lips 
and cheeks want color, I break in pure red 
of the requisite grade. If the reflexes are too 
neutral, red and yellow combined give them 
warmth. In the same way, some portions re- 
quire to be cooled by breaking in blue. These 
positive tints, broken into a neutral ground, 
have a wonderful sparkle and brilliancy owing 
to the contrast. One is surprised to see the 
canvas glow with hues which rival real flesh. 
The reason is obvious, the mixture of the 
colors by means of the brush instead of the 
knife, has been only a partial one. A mi- 
croscope would show small particles of each 
of the three colors perfectly pure. This gives 
a peculiar tenderness of tone like that of 
shot, or changeable silks, in which a hue is 
produced by placing in juxtaposition a com- 
bination of pure colors, instead of a general 
dye of one. This tender and glowing tone 
constitutes that appearance of internal light 
which Titian calls the ‘ luce di dentro^ ” 

“ By Jove,” said Spencer, ‘‘ there must be a 
great deal in that — you must teach me this 
method.” 

“ With all my heart. Allston told me he 


158 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


got the first idea of this system from a re- 
mark of Plazlitt’s, who was at that time a pain- 
ter. They were in the Louvre, examining 
a Titian. Hazlitt was endeavoring to look 
through the glazing at the rich impasto un- 
derneath. ‘ Look here Allston,’ said he, ‘ the 
colors do not appear to be mixed with a knife 
— he seems to have twiddled them together, 
in a most mysterious manner.’ ‘ I don’t know,’ 
said AUston, when relating the anecdote, 
‘ whether the word twiddled is as significant 
to you as it was to me. It gave me the idea 
of keeping my tints pure, and catching them 
up on the end of the brush, and painting with 
them in that state. Previously, I had never 
been able to produce any flesh to satisfy my 
eye.’ ” 

“ What I have described,” said he, “ relates 
only to the use of solid body colors, which 
constitute what the Italians call impasto. It 
is the groundwork, and the grand essential 
of all good pictures. I endeavor to complete 
this at one sitting. Every thing is at first kept 
broad and vapory. The final touches of 
high lights, and sharp touches of shadow, as 
at the corners of the mouth, the parting of 


ALLSTON. 


159 


the lips, the nostrils, &c. give the life and an- 
imation. When the picture is dry, the Ital- 
ians consider it finished. But I look upon 
it as only the beginning of my work. I usually 
give it a slight glaze of asphaltum, just 
enough to lower the tone a trifle. By means 
of glazing or painting over certain portions 
with transparent colors, I not only heighten 
the brilliancy of the tints, but model up the 
details with a degree of finish which cannot 
be attained in a fresh impasto. I mix Roman 
ochre, Indian red, and ultramarine, to a neu- 
tral tint, which I call Titian’s dirt, and find 
very useful in modelling up detail. 

“ The power of glazing when used to heighten 
the brilliancy of color, is almost marvellous. 
Take for instance, a canvas and paint it as 
black as you can make it with solid colors. 
When it is dry glaze one half of it with re- 
peated coats of asphaltum and blue, and you 
will find that the unglazed portion will seem 
slate colored by its side. I am amazed at 
the stupidity of the modern Italian academies, 
who hold that a painter is estimable just in 
proportion to his power to paint without the 
aid of glazing. I should as soon think of say- 


160 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


ing that the improvvisatore was your only true 
poet.” 

“ Ah,” said Bruce, “ it only shows what 
mischief academies have done to art. I have 
seen letters of the last century, (you will find 
many such in Ticozzi’s collection of ‘ Letters 
by the Old Masters,’) in which a well pre- 
served patina, or glazing, is insisted on as the 
highest and crowning merit of a picture. The 
present directors of the academies and galle- 
ries ignore it altogether. Since I have been 
in Italy, it has been my fate to see several 
fine masterpieces utterly ruined by injudicious 
cleaning. There was at the Pitti a magnifi- 
cent portrait of Rembrandt in armour, painted 
by himself. It was very solidly painted and 
so richly glazed that it shone like a jewel. 
The other day I found that it had been ex- 
coriated, all the patina had been scoured down 
and the impasto was as tame as a picture on 
a tea-tray. Titian’s Flora is another instance 
of the same treatment. Your account of All- 
ston’s method has interested me very much. 
In my line which is landscape-painting, I find 
many precepts and methods which are analo- 
gous to his method, and there can be no 


ALLSTON. 


161 


doubt that his theory is sound and true. You 
seem to understand it so well, that I promise 
myself great pleasure in looking at your works, 
if you will allow me that favor.” 

“ I shall consider it a great honor if you 
will favor me with your criticisms,” replied 
Carroll, rising to take leave. 

Bruce shook the young men by the hand ; 
and, showing them to the door, he remarked 
that the quiet artistic chat which they had 
enjoyed had revived him. “ I was, at first, 
quite exhausted, by a crowd of visitors, who 
have been this morning to see my pictures. 
For two long hours the street was completely 
blocked up with carriages. Two Russian 
princesses, a dozen marquises and counts, be- 
sides a host of ladies, made a constant stream 
of visitors. Good-morning.” 

When they had descended to the street, the 
two friends could not restrain their merriment. 
“ What an original character ! ” said Carroll. 

“ The old man,” replied Spencer, “ with all 
his covetousness and worldly-mindedness, has 
a deep and sincere love of art. He has seen 
much of the world, and is often instructive, and 
always amusing.” 

11 


162 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Do you know,” said Carroll, ‘‘ that, at first, 
I had a strange feeling as if I had met him 
before ; his voice and manner seemed like those 
of an old acquaintance. I knew this was im- 
possible, and I felt as if I were in a dream. 
When he spoke of Allston, it suddenly flashed 
upon me that Allston (who was a capital 
mimic) had spoken to me of Bruce, as an 
eccentric and amusing character, and had imi- 
tated his voice and manner. This explained 
the whole mystery at once, and I felt quite 
prepared for what was coming. I remember 
Allston’s speaking of a letter which Bruce 
wrote him from London, in which he said he 
had ‘ seen a fine picture, by Sir Joshua, painted 
by damned dishonest means.’ He was, at that 
time, a great stickler for the Italian method of 
coloring, though he afterwards laid aside his 
prejudices, and became (as Allston said) a fine 
colorist. 

“ As an instance of his utter want of 
truth, he told me that, when in Rome, Bruce 
had a buxom young housekeeper, (a mistress 
in fact rather than a servant.) She was 
an intelligent and lively creature, for whom 
all the artists who visited there had a great 


ALLSTON. 


163 


regard and kindness. Meeting Bruce in Lon- 
don, one day on his return from Rome, Allston 
asked after Caterina. ‘ Poor thing,’ said Bruce, 
‘ she died, last winter, of the Roman fever.’ 
Allston was quite shocked, and expressed great 
sorrow. ‘ I had become much attached to her,’ 
said Bruce, ‘ and could not bear to stay in 
Rome, so here I am.’ A few days afterwards 
Allston met an artist who had been a common 
friend of Bruce and himself, ‘ I am very much 
shocked to hear the sad news of poor Caterina,’ 
said he. On his friend’s inquiring to what he 
alluded, Allston related what Bruce had told 
him, ‘ It’s the damnedest lie that was ever ut- 
tered,’ indignantly exclaimed his friend. ‘ I saw 
her only three weeks ago ; Bruce deserted her 
most shamefully, and turned her off without a 
penny. I myself lent her five dollars to support 
her till she could get a place.’ ” 

“The old rascal!” said Spencer; “I had 
not thought him capable of such an act. 
There is one funny thing about him — you can 
never nail a lie upon him, he is so sly. He is 
what Goldoni calls a regular ^piantatore di 
carote^ * About a month ago I was at his 

* A planter of carrots, in Italian, signifies a liar. See 
Goldoni’s “ Bugiardo” 


164 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


house just before dinner, and he invited me to 
stay; I declined, saying that I had something 
to do at home. ‘ I am very sorry,’ said he, ‘ I 
have only a friend to dine with me to-day, an 
Italian priest, for whom I have a great regard. 
My cook has prepared a fine sturgeon and a 
brace of fat capons, stuffed with chestnuts and 
olives.’ A malicious idea of seeing how he 
would account for the absence of these dishes, 
which, I felt convinced, existed only in his 
imagination, caused me to consider myself 
pressed. ‘ Really, Mr. Bruce,’ said I, ‘ your bill 
of fare is so inviting, that I will accept your 
kind invitation.’ ‘ You shall be very welcome,’ 
said he. In less than five minutes his friend 
came, and dinner was served. By Jove, sir, 
there was not only the sturgeon and capons, 
but a peacock, with the tail-feathers on, 

crowned the splendid dinner. I must have shown 
some surprise, for, as each dish was put on the 
table, he would give me one of those queer 
looks which remind me of the eye of a horse 
or dog, which look around, but not at you.” 

“ I have observed that expression of his eye,” 
said Carroll. 

“ The old man was in high spirits ; and, tow- 


ALLSTON. 


165 


ards the end of the dinner, when well primed 
with wine, told a number of cock-and-bull 
stories about himself and Benjamin West, with 
whom, by the way, he was well acquainted, if 
not a pupil at one time. At last, he spoke of a 
compliment which Sir Joshua Reynolds had 
paid him when about twenty-five years of age. 
T was struck with amazement. ‘ Surely, sir,’ 
said I, ‘ you must mean some other painter ; 
Sir Joshua died in 1792.’ ‘ My dear sir,’ replied 

he, ‘there is no reliance to be placed on English 
biography, particularly those of artists. To my 
own certain knowledge, Sir Joshua died full 
ten or fifteen years later than is stated in any 
life of him. And moreover, my young cock,’ 
said he with a hiccup, ‘ I am a much older 
chicken than you would imagine.’ ” 

“ Splendid ! ” said Carroll, who could not 
restrain his laughter at the style in which Spen- 
cer had imitated the inimitable original. 

As it was now dinner time, the two friends 
parted. 


166 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A CHALLENGE. 

In the afternoon of the following day, Carroll 
rode to the Cascine, or Dairy Farm of the Gfand 
Duke, the much frequented resort of the Flor- 
entine fashionables and idlers. Bounding the 
walls of Florence on one side, this farm or 
public garden extends to a distance of two or 
three miles into the country. Like the Bois de 
Boulogne, at Paris, or the Prater of Vienna, it 
is laid out in fine roads, walks, and by-paths, 
among forests, meadows, and gardens. In a 
central position, a villa of fine proportions 
stands on one side of an open square, sur- 
rounded by large forest trees. 

This is the rendezvous of the riders and 
pedestrians who frequent the Cascine. At 
about an hour or two before sunset it is filled 
with equipages, standing in regular file, or 
moving slowly around, to give the ladies an 


A CHALLENGE. 


167 


opportunity of chatting together, or to receive 
visits and compliments from the gentlemen. 

Avoiding this public resort, Carroll took the 
road by the riverside, and trotted on towards 
the Pheasant Preserves and the Labyrinth, a 
large grove laid out with windilig walks and 
intricate mazes, in imitation of the fabled 
structure from which it takes its name. Halt- 
ing, at a short distance from it, he gave his 
horse to Giovanni, and, dismounting, he en- 
tered the Labyrinth, and amused himself by 
threading its alleys. 

It was not without reason that he had chosen 
this secluded place for his walk. On the pre- 
ceding evening, at the Ducal Opera House, he 
was surprised to see the Princess Zerlinski, 
seated in the box of the Corsini. Carroll was 
pained to observe a change in her appearance. 
Although her features were as beautiful as ever, 
they wore an expression of apathetic sadness. 
He was so situated that, from his seat in the 
platea^ he could observe her without being seen. 
In the rear of the box, a young French officer 
was conversing with a lady ; he was soon pre- 
sented to Princess Zerlinski, and was evidently 
endeavoring to make himself agreeable. Car- 


168 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


roll was pleased to observe that she received his 
very marked attentions with coldness, if not 
with hauteur — and the Frenchman soon rose, 
with the piqued air of one who has failed to 
make a sensation. Young Spencer, at this 
moment, joined Carroll, and was loud in his 
admiration of the stranger, whom he pointed 
out to Carroll, as a beauty that had this even- 
ing attracted great attention. 

“ She is very handsome,” said Carroll, care- 
lessly. “ Who is the officer who has just been 
conversing with her ? ” 

“ It is the Count de Poignard, cavalry officer 
in the French army. He has just returned 
from Algiers, where he has won laurels by his 
bravery. He has the reputation of having 
great courage, but is somewhat proud and 
overbearing, if not a bit of a bully.” 

Carroll had avoided the walks and drives 
from a fear of meeting the princess in public, 
which he felt would place him in an embar- 
rassing situation; but, like a moth fluttering 
around the candle by which his wings had been 
scorched, he was irresistibly drawn to .the 
neighborhood of a spot where he thought her 
most likely to be. As he wandered through 


A CHALLENGE. 


169 


the paths of the Labyrinth, he had a presenti- 
ment that, like ^neas in Hades, he should meet 
the shade of his Dido, and that she would 
look upon him mournfully and reproachfully. 
At a sudden turn of a walk he found himself 
face to face, not with a shade, but with the fair 
princess herself. 

Ernesto ! said she, extending her hand, with 
her face glowing with radiant joy and pleasure. 
Her manner was so cordial and so different 
from what he had anticipated, that he felt a 
thrill of happiness, as raising her hand to his 
lips, he replied : — 

“ Ben trovata^ Sofia ! ” 

After silently gazing upon his face for a few 
moments her expression became sad and mel- 
ancholy. “ Have I then loved a thing without 
a heart,” asked she, with a low faltering voice, 
“ it must be so ; or you could not have de- 
serted me so cruelly, leaving behind you sting- 
ing and bitter reproaches — implying that I had 
been guilty of wilful and deliberate falsehood — 
had you given me an opportunity I could have 
explained to you that some of your suspicions 
were totally unfounded. 

“ When I spoke of having lost my husband, 


170 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


I only meant to imply that he was lost to 
me. Though alive, he has been dead to me 
from the very day when I first bore his name. 
My mysterious meeting with you, and the new 
sensation which your presence awakened in my 
heart, led me to believe that Providence had 
interposed to atone for my previous sufferings. 
The sisterly interest which I first felt for you, 
soon ripened into a warmer passion, and I 
gave to you all I had to bestow. I gave my 
heart in all sincerity and truth — you rejected 
it in scorn.” Here tears began to flow fast, 
and her words were interrupted by convulsive 
scj^bing. 

“ Am I alone of all God’s creatures denied 
the pleasures of sympathy and love ? While 
all around me are happy, am I condemned 
to bury my heart in a living tomb? Ah, Er- 
nest, your religion is too stern and cruel. Em- 
brace our holy Catholic faith, and you shall 
find that “ its yoke is easy and its burden 
light.” 

“Never!” exclaimed Carroll, “that accursed 
religion is the cause of all the misery and 
degradation of this fair land. The Church, by 
its sale of indulgences, and easy remission of 


A CHALLENGE. 


171 


sins to the wealthy, confesses that its kingdom 
is of this world. It has converted the holy 
temple of God into a den of brokers and money- 
changers.” 

“ Ah, Ernesto,” said the princess, (who seemed 
shocked by this expression of his opinion,) that 
sentiment is unworthy of you; it has caused 
you, who are all kindness and benevolence, to 
speak in bitterness and anger. Suddenly start- 
ing, — “ leave me,” said she, “ some one comes 
this way.” Her quick woman’s ear had caught 
the sounds of footsteps approaching. “ Addio^ 
caroj’' and with a slight sob — per sempreP 
As she turned to leave him, she cast upon 
him a look like that of a dying person, which 
seemed to say, “ save me from death — save 
me from annihilation.” 

The sight of a woman in tears is enough 
to unman the stoutest heart. Carroll was deeply 
affected, and with difficulty refrained from 
hastening after her, and offering consolation 
in words of kindness and sympathy. He had, 
however, been struck by an appearance of 
alarm in her manner, and deemed it more 
prudent to obey her commands. He hastened 
in the direction of the spot where he had left 


172 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Giovanni in charge of his horse, which he 
mounted and rode homeward on a gallop. 

He was in a frame of mind by no means 
enviable — his head and heart were at war, and 
he bitterly reproached himself with having 
brutally wounded the feelings of the kindest 
and gentlest of creatures. “ The pride of vir- 
tue,” said he to himself, “ is cold, selfish, and 
pitiless. Would to God, Sofia, that I had never 
seen thee.” 

Passing through the Porticiuolo he checked his 
horse’s speed, and was walking him slowly 
through Borg’ Ognissanti, when he heard the 
sound of a horseman trotting very fast behind 
him. He was soon overtaken, and the rider 
proved to be the Count de B. As he passed 
Carroll, he turned in the saddle and closely 
scrutinized his person from head to foot. 

Carroll was highly incensed by this imperti- 
nence, and returned an angry glance under 
which the eye of the Frenchman soon quailed, 
and he rode on. 

“ Is it possible that he could have wit- 
nessed our interview ? ” asked he, or does he 
merely suspect me of having been in her 
company. If the puppy wishes to pick a 


A CHALLENGE. 


173 


quarrel with me he shall find me not re- 
luctant. At this moment I value my life at 
a pin’s worth.” 

This evening, for the first time, Carroll failed 
in his attendance at the Academy. He felt 
utterly incapable of study, and spent several 
hours in pacing his room, deeply engaged in 
thought. 

Towards nine o’clock, it occurred to him, that 
the princess would, most probably, be at the 
opera. He felt an irresistible desire to see her 
once more, and to efface from his memory the 
image of her sad and weeping countenance. 
Arriving at the Pergola, he found that she was 
alone, accompanied only by a domestic, in the 
livery of the Corsini, who stood respectfully at 
the door of her box. Carroll saw that his 
entrance was noticed by the princess, and, in a 
few moments, the domestic brought him a mes- 
sage from her, requesting the pleasure of his 
company. 

Carroll followed the footman, who opened 
the box, and remained on the outside. 

The princess received him with her usual 
cordial and cheerful manner. “ I am almost 
ashamed to see you, after my conduct at the 


174 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Cascine. I weep as easily as a child, but my 
heart is like a child’s, and is quickly relieved by 
tears. I have regained the serenity of my 
thoughts, and am satisfied that you are not only 
gentle and kind, but that you are wise and 
good. I shall endeavor to imitate your ex- 
ample. Since we cannot be lovers, let us at 
least be friends. Will you accept my friend- 
ship ? ” It was evident to Carroll that an 
affected serenity of manner, ill concealed an 
expression of mental anguish. 

“ Ah, Sofia,” said he, “ I can never cease to 
love you. I feel that I can never love another 
as I do you. Since you permit me the title of 
a friend, I am proud of it, and shall endeavor to 
merit it.” 

“ Enough,” said she, “ you have made me 
perfectly happy. My heart at least is my own, 
and I can bestow it on whom I please. We 
will be the best of friends, and since it is dan- 
gerous to talk of love, henceforth we will call it 
friendship. I have at this moment a cheerful 
conviction, that if God has ordained our union, 
he will bring it about.” 

Ernest felt his heart lightened of a heavy- 
burden ; they continued to converse cheerfully 


A CHALLENGE. 


175 


together, and it was agreed that they should 
correspond and communicate by letters, any 
thoughts or events which might be of interest. 
The princess informed Carroll, that she should 
return to Venice on the following day, and 
promised to write on her arrival, giving him her 
address. Having handed her to her carriage, he 
bid her good evening, and bent his steps home- 
ward. 

He had not proceeded far, when he was over- 
taken by Otway, Spencer, and two or three 
other friends, on their way to a supper at 
WitaPs. Carroll readily accepted their invita- 
tion to join them. He began to be aware that 
he had scarcely eaten at dinner, and was now in 
a mood to enjoy pleasant company. 

The supper was soon ordered, and good appe- 
tites and gay conversation made the meal a 
merry one. Young Holland alone seemed to be 
low-spirited. Is there a good dentist in Flor- 
ence?” asked he, with a doleful air, just after a 
roar of laughter at some joke of Spencer’s, had 
subsided. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Spencer. “ There is an Eng- 
lish one on the Piazza Santa Maria Novella, an 
American on the Lung’ Arno, and a famous 


176 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Italian, Dr. Trentuno, who pulls teeth gratis^ on 
horseback, in the Piazza Granduca, every Thurs- 
day. He is very expert. After lecturing on the 
diseases of the teeth, in a loud charlatan voice, 
he pauses, and says : ‘ If there be present any 
sufferer, let him approach, and I will relieve 
him.’ Some fellow, with his face bound up, 
will come to his side, when, without dismount- 
ing, he extracts the tooth in the twinkling of an 
eye. Elevating high in air the offending mem- 
ber, ‘ This tooth, gentlemen, you perceive ,’ 

and continues his harangue, to which the late 
sufferer listens with open mouth and bloody 
chops, with as much interest as the rest of the 
crowd.” 

“ Horrible,” said Holland, nervously. “ There 
is no greater curse than the toothache.” 

“ It is easily remedied by extraction,” said 
Spencer. “ The pain is only momentary, and 
the relief is instantaneous.” 

“ To most people, I know,” replied Holland, 
who did not seem aware that he was introduc- 
ing a disagreeable subject in a very maUd-propos 
manner. “ My teeth, however, are very peculiar 
in their formation, and have large hooked and 
forked prongs. I seldom have had one ex- 


A CHALLENGE. 


177 


tracted, without losing a portion of the jaw- 
bone, and the pain and agony is excruciat- 
ing.” 

“ Damn his teeth,” said Otway to Carroll, in 
an undertone. 

Carroll smiled, and said, ‘‘ It is really ludi- 
crous to think that this is the third time I have 
known him obtrude his dental suffering upon a 
mixed company, who neither know nor care for 
his troubles. It is in very bad taste.” 

A noisy party of revellers here entered the 
Caff§, and ordered supper at another table. 
Among them. Count Poignard was conspicuous 
by his gayety, and the volubility of his tongue. 
He exchanged greetings with Spencer and 
Otway, with whom he had a slight acquaint- 
ance. 

Carroll continued quietly eating his supper, 
and talking to Otway, without noticing the jeux 
d^esprit of the Frenchman, which Spencer 
seemed to enjoy highly. Presently the Count 
lowered his voice, and Carroll was aware that 
he was making inquiries as to his name, pro- 
fession, &c. 

“Waiter!” called the Count, “this water is 
dirty, bring me another glass.” As he said this, 
12 


178 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


with a deliberate air, he threw the whole con- 
tents of the tumbler over Carroll’s legs. 

Highly incensed by this gross outrage, Carroll 
would not trust himself to speak for a moment 
or two. Looking towards the new party, he 
saw a malicious grin on the face of the French- 
man, and a look of surprise and amazement on 
those of his companions. 

“ Messieurs, said Carroll, in a quiet tone, 
“ quelqu^un de vous m^ajetS de VeauP 

“ Eh, hien ? ” said the Count with a grimace, 
which was meant to be crushing. 

“ Gentlemen,” continued Carroll, (still speak- 
ing French,) “ usually apologize for such an 
accident, unless ” (here he spoke with great de- 
liberation) “they are willing to be understood 
to have done it purposely.” The coolness of 
his manner for a moment cowed the bully. 
“ Si je ne Vai pas fait expres ? ” said he, stam- 
mering. 

“ Ca suffit. Monsieur said Carroll, who was 
glad to receive an answer, which could be con- 
strued into an apology. 

The Count colored, and gulped down a glass 
of brandy, which seemed to mount at once to 
his head. Bringing his huge fist heavily down 


A CHALLENGE. 


179 


upon the table, causing a great jingling of 
glasses, “ Je me dedis de tout pa,” said he, “ et 
je m'en ris des consequences^ 

“ The gentleman seems inclined to quarrel,” 
said Carroll, in a low tone to Otway and 
Spencer. 

“ Why, yes. We think there can be no 
doubt of it.” 

“ It was superfluous for me to ask, but I was 
unwilling to engage in an unnecess-ary broil. 
If either of you gentlemen will be my second, I 
will challenge him on the spot.” 

“ I would offer my services with pleasure,” 
said Holland, mournfully, “ but in the present 
state of my teeth, I cannot count upon steady 
nerves, I should be no manner of use.” 

“ Oh, do it in spite of your teeth,” said 
Otway. “ I shall be most happy,” said another 
friend, “ provided the duel is to take place out 
of Tuscany.” 

“ And I,” said Spencer, “ will serve you, even 
if we are to fight in the jaws of hell. Johnny 
Crapaud shall never insult one of the Anglo- 
Saxon race with an Englishman standing by.” 

“ Thank you,” said Carroll. “ Since you 
make no conditions, I accept your kind ser- 


180 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


vices. Have the goodness to come with me 
into the next room, where we shall find pen, 
ink, and paper.” 

“ God bless me, my boy,” said Otway, “ this 
is a sad business; but I really don’t see that 
you can do otherwise.” 

Carroll lost no time in indicting a formal 
challenge, demanding satisfaction for the un- 
provoked insult which he had received. Spen- 
cer handed it to the Count, who bowed and said, 
“ You shall have an answer to-morrow.” 

Spencer’s back was no sooner turned, than 
the Count made a most disgusting exhibition 
of savage pleasure at the contents of the note. 
Counting on his fingers, one, two, three, four. 
“ This makes the fifth affaire d^honneur which I 
have had in Italy. In two of them, I spoiled 
the profile of my adversary, and in the other 
two, ce n’etait pas moi qui tomhaiV^ 

Carroll’s friends rallied around him as he re- 
entered the room, and accompanied him on his 
way home, leaving Count Poignard and his as- 
sociates masters of the field. 


AN APOLOGY. 


181 


CHAPTER V. 

AN APOLOGY. 

On the following morning, Carroll awoke to 
a full sense of the seriousness of the situation 
into which he had been forced. He review'ed 
the events of the preceding evening, and asked 
whether he had been precipitate or hot-headed. 
On the contrary, by the moderation of his firm 
manner, he had received an apology, which was 
afterwards retracted in a coarsely brutal manner. 
Having spent much of his youth in the South- 
ern States, where public opinion not only sanc- 
tions, but approves of duelling as a safeguard 
in society, he felt no religious scruples on the 
subject, and being satisfied that his cause was a 
just one, he impatiently waited for an answer 
to his challenge. 

He was seated at breakfast at a late hour of 
the morning, when Spencer came. His usual 


182 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


gay, frank, and jovial manner had given way to 
an expression of sad, serious, and concentrated 
excitement. 

He handed Carroll a note, which he said had 
been given to him by the Count’s second. Car- 
roll read as follows : — 

“ Count de Poignard will be most happy to 
give Mr. Carroll the satisfaction he requests in 
his note of yesterday. Availing himself of the 
privileges of the challenged party, he would in- 
dicate five o’clock, on Friday morning, as the 
time for the meeting to take place, at the Laby- 
rinth of the Royal Cascine, and sabres for the 
weapons, which will be supplied by Mons. Vic- 
tor de Blois, who will communicate with Mr. 
C.’s friend, Mr. Spencer.” 

“ The devil ! ” groaned Spencer. “ It is no 
more nor less than suicide for you to fight him 
with sabres. He is known to be a very power- 
ful sabreury 

“ I am not an indifferent swordsman when in 
training,” said Carroll. “ Unfortunately, I am 
still weak from the effects of a broken arm, 
occasioned by a fall from my horse two or three 
months since.” 

“ Really ? ” said Spencer. “ Then, by Jove, 


AN APOLOGY. 


183 


the boot is on the other leg. You can insist on 
his meeting you with pistols.” 

“ How so ? ” 

“ By the laws of honor, as agreed upon by all 
nations, a physical disability to use any weapon 
entitles a man to name another, which will put 
the parties on a par.” 

“ Are you sure of that ? ” 

“ Why, certainly. Plum, who is thoroughly 
versed in these matters, told me so not a week 
ago.” 

“ In that case,” said Carroll, “ it will be your 
duty to object to the weapons, on the grounds 
you have stated. Fortunately, I have a letter 
of instructions from the court physician at Ven- 
ice, cautioning me to abstain from all violent 
exercises, such as fencing and boxing, for sev- 
eral months. Here it is.” 

“ That’s the document,” said Spencer, gayly, 
“ which will do our business for us. Are you 
a good shot ? ” said he anxiously. 

“ You shall judge for yourself,” replied Car- 
roll, with a confident smile. “ Giovanni, take 
my pistol-case and a lighted candle into the 
garden.” 

Taking a pistol in hand, and pacing off fif- 


184 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


teen paces, Carroll wheeled round, and dis- 
charging his weapon, he extinguished the light, 
without grazing the candle. The wick was cut 
off as clean as if it had been done by a pair of 
snuffers. 

“ Bravo ! ’’ shouted Spencer enthusiastically. 

Taking from his pocket a copper coin, “ Have 
the goodness to toss up this soldo , said he. 

Spencer gave it a toss into the air, and Car- 
roll watching it till it presented a broadside sur- 
face, fired, and the coin, which Spencer found in 
a corner, was perforated by the bullet. 

“ Why,” said Spencer, “ this is incredible.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” said Carroll, “ that was a bung- 
ling shot; look here.” With his left hand, he 
threw up, one after another, two soldi, and wait- 
ing till they fell into a straight line with his eye, 
he again fired, and the two pieces were found 
bored through the centre, as if they had been 
pierced by a machine. 

“ Why, Carroll,” said his friend, you have 
the eye of a hawk, and the nerve of a lion. 
You can do what you please with your man.” 

“ I am not bloodthirsty,” said Carroll, “ but 
if the Count meets me, I will tell you what I 
will do. I will shatter his right hand so effect- 


AN APOLOGY. 


185 


ually, as to incapacitate him from playing the 
bully for the rest of his life.’’ 

Spencer’s spirits were now fully restored, and 
taking Dr. Andrei’s letter with him, he stated to 
De Blois the reasons which obliged him to ob- 
ject to sabres as the weapons, and recommended 
the substitution of pistols. 

“ Your objections are perfectly en regie said 
De Blois, and my principal must, of course, 
comply with your terms.” 

The morning passed, and no answer arrived. 
The two friends were seated at the dinner table 
smoking cigars, and wondering how long it 
would be before the Count would make up his 
mind. At about four o’clock, a sergeant of the 
police called, and gave Carroll and Spencer a 
summons, to present themselves immediately at 
the office of the Buon Governo. 

“ What’s in the wind, now ? ” asked Spen- 
cer. 

“We shall soon see,” replied Carroll, taking 
his hat, and telling the sergeant that they 
would follow him. 

They were ushered into a small room, where 
they found the Presidente del Buon Governo^ 
Count Poignard, and De Blois. 


186 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Gentlemen,” said the magistrate, ‘‘ news has 
reached me of a hostile meeting arranged to 
take place between you. You Count P. and 
Mr. Carroll are the principals, and the other two 
gentlemen are the seconds. His royal highness, 
the Grand Duke, has a particular aversion to 
duelling, and has made several very severe penal 
enactments to prevent it. It becomes my duty 
to place you under arrest, from which you can 
be released only on your signing a bond, in the 
sum of ten thousand scudi each, to keep the 
peace.” 

“ In that case, I shall be obliged to sign the 
bond, for I have military duties to perform 
which will not allow me to remain under ar- 
rest beyond to-morrow.” So saying, the Count 
took the pen with a shrug and signed. 

“ And you Mr. Carroll,” said the president. 

“ I have no choice left,” said he, and he 
signed the bond also. 

“ Bravo ! ” said the president, “ this is as it 
ought to be. Some slight misunderstanding, 
I presume — something which in a cool moment 
could be explained to the mutual honor and 
satisfaction of both parties. Now do me the 
favor to shake hands and to forgive and for- 
get.” 


AN APOLOGY. 


187 


“ Excuse me. Signore PresidcnteJ’’ said Car- 
roll, respectfully, “ I bow in obedience to the 
laws of the land, which receives me hospitably 
and protects my rights. But my hand is my 
own, and shall never be given to any one, ex- 
cepting in token of friendship and esteem. In 
the present case it is out of the question.” 

Making a respectful bow, he walked towards 
the door, when turning again he made the 
president another low bow and departed with 
Spencer without taking any further notice of 
the Count. 

“ How could the police have got wind of 
this matter ? ” asked Spencer, as they walked 
homeward. “ I shrewdly suspect that the Count, 
not relishing the smell of powder, employed 
some underling to give information, if he did 
not apply personally for protection.” 

“We can easily ascertain, whether any of 
our party have had a hand in it. Otway, I 
am sure would not peach, and Holland was 
so much preoccupied by threatening symptoms 
of a toothache, that I doubt whether he would 
have stirred his finger to save me from hang- 
ing.” 

“ You have mentioned the devil and here 


188 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


he is/’ said Spencer, as Holland came up to 
them. 

“ Ah, Spencer,” said he with a look of de- 
light, “it is out.” 

“ What ’s out ? ” asked Spencer — thinking he 
alluded to the fact, that the duel had come to 
the knowledge of the police. 

“ My tooth. I took your advice and went 
to Trentuno. Here it is,” said he, drawing 
from his waistcoat pocket a bit of paper, 
which he carefully unfolded, “just look at these 
prongs.” 

“ You infernal selfish scamp,” said Spencer, 
indignantly, “can you think of nothing but 
your d — d teeth, when your best friend stands 
in jeopardy of his life?” 

“ I beg your pardon, Mr. Carroll,” said the 
abashed youth. “ I am so absent-minded — I 
hope the case is not desperate. I really trust 
that nothing serious has come out of last 
night’s affair.” 

“ The police have interfered and put us 
under bonds to keep the peace,” answered 
Carroll. 

“ I am delighted to hear it, it is the very 
best termination possible — good morning.” 


AN APOLOGY. 


189 


“ I do not consider the matter as termi- 
nated,” said Carroll, after Holland had gone, 
“ I do not relish the idea of the Count’s 
getting off so easily. The terms of our bonds 
only prevent us from fighting in Tuscany. A 
short journey will take us to the Sardinian 
or Roman frontier, and he cannot refuse to 
meet me there. I shall insist on his doing 
so or giving me a written apology. Are you 
willing to carry a note for me ? ” 

“ With all my heart — the sooner the better. 
Step into Volpini’s, the bookseller, and write 
your note, and I will take it to Casa Bianchi, 
where both the Count and De Blois are lodg- 
ing.” 

“ I am sorry to give you so much trouble,” 
said Carroll, as he handed him his note. 

“ No apologies,” said his eager friend, “ I 
will come to your house as soon as 1 have 
done my errand.” 

Finding De Blois in his room, Spencer 
handed him the note, and asked if he might 
expect an answer soon. 

“ Have the goodness to take a seat and I 
will step up to the Count’s room overhead.” 

“ Why, what the devil is this,” said the 


190 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Count, after reading the note and handing it 
to De Blois, “ I thought this ridiculous busi- 
ness was over.” 

“ The young American seems to think dif- 
ferently,” dryly answered his friend. 

“ Peste ! ” said the Count, stalking up and 
down the room. “ These Americans are often 
excellent shots, and pertinacious as bull-dogs. 
What do you advise me to do? I bear the 
youth no malice, and only meant to punish 
his conceit by a few scratches.” 

“ I see no alternative between fighting and 
writing an apology,” said De Blois, curtly. 

“ Peste ! ” muttered the Count again, and 
coloring to his very temples — thrusting his 
hands into the pockets of his enormous Cos- 
sack pantaloons, which he spread out on each 
side to their full extent — he strode about the 
room, bearing no small resemblance to the ace 
of spades. Presently, with a humble tone and 
faltering eye, “ Victor,” said he, “ do you think 
that a soldier can with honor, apologize to a 
gentleman whom he has wronged ? ” 

“ I think there is no other course left for a 
soldier or a gentleman,” replied De Blois. 

“ Victor, for once in my life I will perform 


AN APOLOGY. 


191 


an act of magnanimity.” Seating himself at 
a secretary, he wrote a most full and abject 
apology, and confessed that under the influ- 
ence of liquor he had been guilty of conduct 
unworthy of a gentleman. 

“ Take this,” said he, “ to the bloodthirsty 
rascal, and tell him if he dares to expose me, 
I will have him stabbed in the dark by the 
first assassin I can hire.” 

“ Is this a message to be sent by one brave 
man to another ? I will not be the bearer of it.” 

“ As you will ; I am in your hands, do with 
me as you see fit.” 

De Blois, whose ideas of his friend’s courage 
had been greatly modified by his conduct in the 
late affair, told Spencer that, with his permis- 
sion, he would do himself the honor of deliver- 
ing the note personally. 

“ I am glad of that,” said Spencer ; “ you 
will like my friend, I am sure. He is a noble 
fellow.” 

Carroll received De Blois with great courtesy, 
and, after reading the note, “ This is perfectly 
satisfactory,” said he ; “ and I withdraw my 
challenge with pleasure. To you, as a friend 
of the Count, I may say what I could not, with 


192 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


propriety, say to him, that this letter shall be 
shown only to those few friends who witnessed 
the transaction, which required some apology.” 

“ Vous ties un vrai galant hom.mej'’ said 
De Blois, grasping his hand warmly. He was 
struck by the difference of spirit in which the 
letter had been sent and received. ^^CharmS de 
Vhonneur avoir fait votre connaissanceP 

The next morning’s Gazzetta di Firenze^ in 
its list of departures, included that of Count 
Gaspard Poignard, Ujfiziale France se. 


THE MAN OF FEELING AND HUMOR. 193 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE MAN OF FEELING AND HUMOR. 

The morning after the events related in the 
last chapter, Carroll received a note from 
Otway : — 

“ My dear Carroll : I cannot express the 
pleasure I felt last evening on hearing, from 
Spencer, the happy termination of your quar- 
rel. I did not say much at the time, thinking 
I might dishearten you, by an expression of 
my serious apprehensions. But, I assure you, 
I did not close my eyes the whole of that 
accursed night. Thank God, the danger is 
past, and you have borne yourself nobly. Who 
would have thought you, who are so quiet and 
gentle, were such a plucky fire-eater! I want 
very much to see you — so, come and breakfast 
with me at ten. You shall have tea, toast, and 
eggs, or coffee and muffins, or a chop and a 

13 


194 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


bottle of wine, for a dSjeuner d la fourchette. I 
shall not take no for an answer, but shall wait 
until you come. C. Otway.” 

“ Giovanni,” said Carroll, “ I shall breakfast 
with Mr. Otway. Call at the post ; and if there 
are any letters for me, send them up.” 

He found Otway stripped to his shirt-sleeves, 
busily engaged in polishing a large steel strong- 
box with oil and rotten-stone. “ Good morn- 
ing, Carroll,” said he ; “I can’t shake hands 
with you, covered as mine are with rotten-stone. 
I am doing this for exercise. My servant, who 
cannot understand why a man should do any 
thing which another can do for him, is contin- 
ually offering to relieve me. When I tell him 
I prefer to do it myself, he only shrugs his 
shoulders, and evidently thinks I am pazzo. 
Excuse me, while I wash my hands and put on 
a decent coat. And now,” said he, as he re- 
turned from his dressing-room, “ give us your 
hand, and accept my congratulations.” 

Carroll soon changed the subject, of which 
he was heartily tired, owing to the fact that it 
had engaged his mind for two or three days 
previously, by asking to see the puppies. 
Opening the door of a small room adjoining. 


THE MAN OF FEELING AND HUMOR. 195 


Otway whistled, and in scampered three young 
dogs, followed by Tina, who bore herself like 
a matron. 

“ Ar’n’t they beauties ? ” said Otway, as, 
stooping down, he took them up one by one, 
and gave to each a kiss. “ Now be quiet, and 
go back to your basket. You, Tina, may 
stay, if you like.” Tina wagged her tail, and 
jumped into an easy-chair, where she cuddled 
up on the soft cushion. “ That’s Tina’s chair,” 
said Otway ; “ I never think of taking it. By- 
the-by, here is something which I promised 
you.” 

“ Ah ! the sonnets,” said Carroll, receiving a 
small envelope. 

“ Yes ; but read them at your leisure — not 
now. I am aware that they are d — d fine ; but 
don’t expect you to praise them.” 

‘‘ I am very curious to see them ; won’t you 
allow me to read them now ? ” 

“ Well — yes ; I will be arranging matters for 
breakfast.” 

We subjoin a copy of these sonnets, for the 
benefit of the reader:* — 

* If these pages should ever meet the eye of the author’s 
friend Otway, he will pardon the breach of confidence 


196 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


TO TIM. 

A long farewell to thine unconscious clay, 

Poor inmate of the cold and shadowy grave, 
For all in vain my efforts prov’d to save 
Thy worn-out life that slowly ebb’d away : 

Thy suff ’rings found in Death a kind relief. 

Yet when I call to mind thy winning ways 
And more than human love in happier days. 
The fond remembrance but renews my grief. 
The stranger recks not of thine age or birth. 
Thy race and beauty, or thy ling’ring end ; 

No monument records thine honest worth ; 

No pleading prayers for thee to Heav’n ascend. 
My faithful dog ; but with thy mother-earth 
Thy sad remains in calm oblivion blend ! 


My grief for thee, poor Tim, may raise a sneer 
In those who knew thee not, nor knew thy love, 
Thy rare fidelity so far above 
Deceit or change, though tried for many a year 
But I— who, ere I laid thee on thy bier. 

Beheld thine eyes, with warm affection bright. 
Grow dim, and close in sad, eternal night — 

How could I o’er thy grave withhold a tear ? 
The earth that on thy corpse was coldly thrown 
Too plainly told we ne’er should meet again ; 
Yet still, at times, I seem to hear thy moan, 

Thy plaintive cry for help, alas ! in vain — 

For Art abandon’d thee and Hope had flown 
Ere Death released thee from consuming pain. 


which has given a wider circulation to these exquisite 
than was intended by the modest poet. 


THE MAN OP FEELING AND HUMOR. 197 


Sorrow and self-reproach may well be mine, 

My kind, intelligent, and long-tried friend. 

For love and faith, that death alone could end, 

In pain and bitter agony were thine : 

In vain will Memory recall the days 
When thou could’st glad me with thine earnest eye, 
And fondly, by thy well-known gambols, try 
To win a brief caress — a word of praise ! 

Poor Dog ! How swiftly flew the pleasant hours 
When thou would’st range the field, or dare the wave ! 
But now thy race is run : — for thee no Powers 
Exist to recompense the Good and Brave. 

Repose in peace ! Beneath a few wild flowers 
My truest friend lies buried in thy grave. 

After reading them, Ernest, who understood 
the downright sincerity of his friend, made no 
comment ; but, folding them again, he pressed 
them to his lips, and put them carefully into his 
pocket-book. 

“ And now for breakfast,” said Otway. 

“ I am surprised,” said Carroll, as they sat 
down, “ to see the number of valuable acquisi- 
tions you have made since I was last here. 
Those bronzes, that steel box, and the buhl 
cabinet, are all late purchases, I think.” 

“ Yes ; and all bargains. I am a great fool, 
Carroll, to waste my money on such useless 
trumpery; but it gives me occupation and 
amusement. I have eight hundred pounds a 


198 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


year, payable quarterly. I could live like a 
prince on half the sum, but I am always buy- 
ing bargains, and, consequently, I am hard up 
at the end of every quarter. Of what earthly 
use is that steel strong-box, over which I have 
wasted a week’s time in polishing and cleaning 
it?” 

“ It is a beautiful piece of workmanship,” 
answered Carroll. “ How exquisite these ara- 
besque chasings are ! ” 

“ It could not have been made for less than 
sixty pounds sterling. It has the cypher of a 
celebrated Milanese smith. I paid two pounds 
sterling for it, and you shall have it for twenty. 
I should like , to make money out of a rich 
A.merican.” 

“ Thank you,” said Carroll, smiling. 

“ Can’t I sell you that antique cabinet? It 
cost me twenty pounds, and you shall have it 
for forty ? ” 

“ You will never make a salesman, if you tell 
what your wares cost you.” 

“ Then I can’t make any money out of you 
to-day — and I have added the cost of the 
breakfast you are eating to my other extrava- 
gances. Do you know I envy shopkeepers the 


THE MAN OF FEELING AND HUMOR. 199 


pleasure they must experience in selling goods 
at a profit ? I have been spending money all 
my life, but never made a penny myself.” 

“ What will you take for Tina ? ” asked 
Carroll, much amused by the waggish humor 
of his eccentric friend. 

“ Ah ! ” said Otway, patting Tina’s head ; 
“ a million wouldn’t buy you, would it ? ” 

Otway’s man announced Mr. Bruce, and 
handed Carroll a letter, post-marked Venezia — 
which he put aside for perusal on his return 
home. 

“ Will you join us ? ” said Otway to Bruce. 

“ Thank you, I have breakfasted two hours 
ago, but I never refuse a cup of coffee. To me 
it is the grand staple of life — it is a panacea for 
every thing. If I am indolent, a cup of coffee 
excites me, and makes me work con amove ; if 
I am jaded and fatigued, a cup of coffee revives 
and restores me. My dear sir,” continued he, 
as Otway handed him a strong cup of his 
favorite beverage, “ I am utterly disgusted by 
the drivelling cant of the English papers, 
stuffed as they are with daily accounts of visits 
to this or that ragged school.” 

‘‘ I have thought them praiseworthy objects of 


200 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


charity,” said Otway, who was not only of a 
benevolent, but rather of a devotional character. 

“ Be God,” returned Bruce, “ there’s no doubt 
that the people of England want instruction 
badly enough, for a more besotted, degraded, or 
ignorant set of creatures is not to be found in 
any other country.” 

“ You surely are not speaking seriously.” 

“ Listen to me, my dear sir,” said Bruce, 
assuming, what Spencer called, the wild-horse 
expression of the eye. “ A clergyman, whom I 
have known intimately for years, told me, that 
on taking possession of a new living in York- 
shire, he determined to visit his parishioners, 
and ascertain from personal inspection, the 
amount and nature of their spiritual wants. 
The first call he made, was on an old lady of 
very respectable family and fortune. When he 
spoke to her of our blessed Redeemer, she asked 
him whom he meant ? 

“ Don’t you know,” said he, “ that Christ 
came into this world to teach and to save man- 
kind ; that he was persecuted, and put to death 
by the Jews ? ” 

“ Never heard of him before,” said the old 
lady — an old lady, sir, of family and fortune! 


THE MAN OF FEELING AND HUMOK. 201 


“ Pray, how long ago did this happen,” asked 
she. 

“ Nearly two thousand years ago.” 

“ Bless my heart ! And where did it hap- 
pen ? ” 

. In Jerusalem, more than two thousand miles 
from here ? ” 

“ Dear me, parson,” said she, “ since it is said 
to have happened so long ago, and at such a 
distance, let us hope that it is not true. Let me 
help you to a cup of tea.” 

Both Carroll and Otway saw by a smile on 
the old man’s face, and a roguish twinkle of his 
eye, that this anecdote, introduced by him as a 
proof of the ignorance and degradation of the 
people of England, was nothing more nor less 
than one of his own manufacture. They both 
knew him to be a free-thinker, and saw that he 
was chuckling and gloating over the sly in- 
nuendo of the finale. 

After eyeing them for a few seconds, Bruce 
burst into a fit of loud laughter. “ Ho, ho, ho,” 
said he, “ did you ever hear of the like of 
that?” 

Carroll joined heartily in the laugh, but Ot- 
way looked grave, and reminded Bruce that he 


202 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


had promised to look at bis late purchases of 
bronzes, and give his opinion of their merit. 

“ With all my heart, my dear sir. I hope you 
did not pay a great sum for them,” said he, ap- 
proaching a collection of statuettes placed upon 
a side-table. 

“ I gave twenty pounds for the lot, twelve in 
number.” 

Bruce examined them singly in silence. At 
last, taking up a little figure of Neptune, about 
eighteen inches high, and placing it on the 
centre-table by itself, “ My dear sir, you may 
give away the other eleven, and you have still 
got this little gem at a bargain ; it is worth 
twenty times the money. If I am not mis- 
taken, you have caught a big fish here. Have 
you a life of Benvenuto Cellini ? ” Otway went 
to a bookcase, and handed him the volume. 

Bruce ran his eye hastily over the table of 
contents, and then having found the passage he 
was seeking, read in it attentively for a minute 
or two. “ Yes ! ” said he, at last, “ I was right. 
I felt convinced that this piece came from no 
less a hand than that of Cellini. Here is an 
account of it. You remember he was anxious 
to get possession of the great block of marble, 


j 


THE MAN OF FEELING AND HUMOR. 203 


which Ammanato finally obtained by the influ- 
ence of the Duchess. From it he carved the 
colossal Neptune which is in the front or near the 
old Ducal Palace. Now Benvenuto had applied 
to the Duke for this marble, and receiving some 
encouragement, ‘ I made,’ he says, ‘ a small 
model in wax, which I cast in bronze, and 
showed it to the Duke, who was much pleased 
with it.’ So that you see before you, my dear 
sir, not only an original design of Benvenuto, but 
one which has a peculiar interest attached to it. 
How rich in art Italy is! It has been ransacked 
by artists and connoisseurs for ages, and yet 
every now and then some happy accident brings 
to light a new treasure. Send the rest of your 
bronzes to the pawnbroker, and sell them for 
what they will bring, but don’t part with this for 
less than five hundred pounds.” 

Otway thanked him cordially for the valu- 
able information he had given him. He was 
much elated by his good fortune. Bruce and 
Carroll rising to go at the same time, Otway 
accompanied them to the door. “ Then I can’t 
sell you any thing to-day,” said he, again affect- 
ing to play the merchant. “ I can’t make money 
out of either of you, eh ? 


204 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Egad, I have put as good as five hundred 
pounds in your pocket, which is pretty well for 
one morning, I think.’^ 

“ Ah, true — much obliged.” 

Otway and Carroll were in the habit of 
good humoredly bantering each other — Otway 
would call Carroll Crcesus and Midas, and 
Carroll would complain of Otway’s luck and 
skill in bargains. Shaking Otway’s hand, he 
quietly remarked, “ I congratulate you on this 
splendid acquisition. I think instead of trying 
to make money by selling bargains, you might 
open a museum. It has occurred to me that 
when you make your will, as all prudent men 
do, while they are in sound and healthy mind, 
you might be desirous of leaving me some- 
thing. So many legacies have been lost owing 
to some mistake in the name or surname of 
the devisee, that I think I may as well give 
you my card. My Christian name is Ernest, 
not Crcesus^ 

Carroll hastened to his home, in order to 
peruse the long expected letter from Venice. 
The princess had arrived in safety and good 
health. Her spirits seemed perfectly tranquil, 
and her letter was in the commencement not 


THE MAN OF FEELING AND HUMOR. 205 


only cheerful but witty and amusing — towards 
the close she became more serious. She spoke 
of a dark storm lowering over her unhappy 
country ; she hinted at conspiracies to bring 
about a revolution. The Marquis Amalfi, an old 
friend of her father’s, had been arrested, thrown 
into prison, and there were fears that his estates 
would be confiscated. No reason had been 
given for these violent measures. And his two 
daughters (whom the princess counted among 
her best friends) were in a state of the greatest 
affliction. She cautioned Carroll against speak- 
ing on political matters in public or even in 
private, when conversing with Italians. Above 
all she besought him never to take part in any 
plot or revolution, which could never result in 
good to himself and might be the means of 
his ruin. 

This was not the first hint which Carroll 
had received of a state of irritation and fer- 
mentation now going on in Italy. He deter- 
mined to follow the advice of the princess, 
and holding aloof, to watch with interest the 
signs of the times. 

He had hardly finished the letter, when 
Spencer burst into his room, convulsed with 


206 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


laughter, Ho ! ho ! ho ! I have just put such 
a jolly joke on Holland. I met him at the 
corner of the street, with his sketching box 
under his arm, “ So! you have been at work 
at the Pitti to-day ? Have you ever seen 
the Specola ? ” 

“ ‘ Specola^ — no ! what is it ? ’ ” 

“‘Why it’s a Museum of Natural History, 
close to the Boboli Gardens. It is well worth 
seeing. There are many things there which 
would interest you highly. Among others the 
tooth of an enormous mastodon — with prongs a 
foot and a half long, and with a cavity capable 
of containing a bushel of toothache ! ’ As I 
kept my countenance during the whole of 
this conversation, he looked so solemn and 
interested that I began, in spite of myself, 
to laugh.” 

“ ‘ Pooh ! nonsense — you are certainly quiz- 
zing me,’ and off he shot, like a dog with 
a tin-pan tied to his tail.” 


ART GOSSIP. 


207 


CHAPTER VIL 

ART GOSSIP. 

A WEEKLY interchange of thought and sen- 
timent by means of a regular correspondence 
established between our hero and the princess, 
proved to the former a source of great pleasure, 
which was uninterrupted for the space of three 
months. Towards the end of April, he received 
a letter in which the fair writer expressed her 
anxiety concerning the fate of the persecuted 
Marquis Amalfi and his unhappy family. 

“ I have at length learned that the pretext 
on which he was arrested is an unfounded 
charge, that he is the Venetian head of a 
party of revolutionists, who are leagued to- 
gether by means of clubs formed in all the 
principal towns and cities of Italy. His friends 
say that this can be easily disproved. Although 
his papers were sealed up at the time of his 


208 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


arrest, he has been in prison three months with- 
out any examination of them, and has been 
denied the privilege of summoning counsel or 
witnesses in his favor. 

“ A friend of mine, who is thoroughly versed 
in the diplomacy of the Austrian Cabinet as- 
sures me that the prime minister begins to 
doubt the justice or policy of the action taken 
by his agents in this matter, and that he would 
gladly recede from his position, provided he 
could do so with grace. He would rather re- 
lease the Marquis as an act of favor, instead 
of confessing by an acquittal that he had been 
unjustly arrested. 

“ My friend suggests that a memorial, stat- 
ing the case, if presented by some influential 
foreign minister, would probably be well re- 
ceived. He spoke of the English and Ameri- 
can ministers as being the fittest persons to 
be applied to. The latter has some claims to 
the gratitude of the Austrian Cabinet, on ac- 
count of the great skill, delicacy, and talent 
with which he has lately settled some knotty 
questions at issue between the two governments. 

“ A drowning man catches at a straw, and 
my object in writing is to ask if you can 


ART GOSSIP. 


209 


suggest any advice or can in any way further 
my views.” . 

“ How very fortunate ! ” thought Carroll. Mr. 

S is not only an acquaintance, but a warm 

personal friend of mine. I am sure he will do 
everything in his power to serve me. I will 
leave for Vienna to-morrow. 

He immediately wrote to the princess, in- 
forming her of his plans, and expressed great 
confidence in their success. He requested her 
to forward the memorial to him at Vienna, 
directed to the care of the American Minister, 
whose address he gave. “ I shall go by the 
way of Genoa and Milan, and thence north- 
ward. I have chosen this route for two rea- 
sons : first, I fear I should be tempted to 
remain longer in Venice than the interests of 
your friends seem to require; and secondly, I 
am desirous of seeing as much of Italy as 
I can.” 

The preparations necessary for the journey 
occupied him the rest of the day ; in the 
evening he repaired to Doney^s CafF^, in or- 
der to take leave of his friends. 

Both Otway and Spencer expressed great 
regrets at the news of his intended absence. 

14 


210 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ I go very reluctantly, but important busi- 
ness makes it absolutely necessary.” 

“ What an intelligent little creature Tina 
is,” said Holland, who sat playing with her 
by his side. 

“ And what a splendid set of teeth ! ” said 
Spencer, with a wink. 

“ Sound as a roach,” added Holland, to- 
tally unconscious of the trap laid for him. 
Observing a smile on the faces of his three 
companions, he colored, sat fidgeting in his 
seat for a few minutes, and then took his 
leave. 

“ What a comical devil that is,” said Spen- 
cer, “ he would make a capital subject for a 
farce. I think I must suggest it to my friend 
Ricci, and then we will take Holland to see a 
new play, entitled ‘ Stentorello diventato pazzo 
per eccesso di dolor di dentV ” 

“ Who is your friend Ricci ? ” asked Carroll. 

“ He is an actor of great talent who writes 
all his own plays. He is the original inventor 
of the character of Stentorello, so popular with 
the Florentines. He is a sort of Robert Ma- 
caire, who speaks always in the dialect of the 
Camandolese or Florentine bourgeoisie. You 


ART GOSSIP. 


211 


are aware that Sten'torello is an institution 
peculiar to Florence, as Harlequin is to Naples, 
or the Fantoccioni to Rome. Ricci has beei 
very successful, and his little theatre is s 
crowded every night that he is making a for 
tune fast. His face is as well known as the 
town clock. An amusing incident occurred 
here the other day : he has been in the habit 
of dining frequently with an English gentle- 
man by the name of Lander who died recently. 
As Ricci had been treated like a particular 
friend by Lander, he felt it his duty to attend 
the funeral, which took place at the English 
burial-ground just outside the Pinti gate. It 
is raised very considerably above the road near 
the gate, so that the crowd of vagabonds and 
idlers, who so quickly assemble on such occa- 
sions, have a full view of what is going on 
above. 

“ On the present occasion the ceremonies 
were performed with great solemnity, and all 
were very much affected. When the body 
was consigned to the earth, Ricci, who was 
standing by the side of young Lander, saw 
that he was about to faint. Opening his 
arms he received him on his bosom, and by 


212 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


embracing him, supported the young man. In 
doing this he turned round so as to face the 
spectators below. A young blackguard shouted 
out, ‘ Per Dio ! ^gli e Stentorello I ’ and ‘ Guardi 
Stentorello^ ran through the crowd, who laughed 
and yelled in the most indecent manner.” 

“Producing an effect like that of.Vestri’s 
acting,” remarked Carroll. “ Of all the comic 
actors I have ever seen, I think he is the truest 
and most original. I have frequently seen him 
in parts where, although placed in a comical 
situation, his own feelings are supposed to be 
gloomy or sorrowful. In such cases, I have 
known him to make the audience both laugh 
and cry at the same time.” 

“ Have you seen Ristori ? ” asked Spencer. 

“ Ah ! ” said Carroll ; “ there is an actress 
whom art and nature have combined to make 
perfect! What classical beauty of face and 
figure — what truth and nature of delivery ! 
One evening she takes the part of a queen, and 
you see the majesty of Juno ; the next night, 
perhaps, she acts Medea, and seems a ‘ Niobe 
all tears;’ on the third night she is a coquettish 
belle, and appears to have borrowed the cestus 
of Venus. My especial delight is to see her in 


ART GOSSIP. 


213 


one of Goldoni’s rhymed comedies, which, in 
my opinion, are raised above his prose composi- 
tions just as the opera is above a common 
tragedy. Her elocution is so perfect, that it 
seems perfectly natural for her to speak poetry ; 
— the words fall from her lips like pearls from 
the mouth of a fairy, and you are amazed at 
the new and exquisite beauty of language with 
which you fancied yourself previously familiar. 
If my eye ever wanders from the beauty of her 
expression, it is only to watch the speaking 
gestures and varied movements of her beautiful 
hand and arm, by which she gives double force 
to her words and expression.” 

^‘Talking of Ristori,” said Spencer, “reminds 
me of your friend Story, whose acquaintance I 
have lately made here. He is a very agreeable 
fellow.” 

“ Yes,” said Carroll ; “ and has the most 
remarkable versatility of talent I ever knew. 
He is not only an excellent scholar and law- 
yer, but is passionately fond of art in all its 
branches. He has devoted himself, with almost 
equal success, to painting, poetry, music, and 
sculpture — the latter is, perhaps, his forte. The 


214 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


only obstacle to his attaining eminence in any 
one of the arts, is, that he has an ample fortune, 
and is very fond of society, in which he is 
eminently qualified to shine.” 

“ I believe you,” said Otway, “ for you have 
drawn an Admirable Crichton.” 

“ I heard an amusing anecdote of him the 
other day,” resumed Carroll. As he was pass- 
ing through Lyons, on his way to Paris, he was 
induced to remain a day or two, — on being 
assured, by the agent of the steamboat, that 
another one would leave on a given day. 
Story found that this was a lie ; and, calling 
day after day, was put off by the assurance that, 
on the following day, the boat would arrive. 
Losing all patience, ‘ Is there no one here,’ said 
he, ‘ who can speak the truth ? You have lied 
to me five times already.’ ‘Moije n’ai pas mentis 
said the agent, ‘ Je ne vous ai jamais vu aupa~ 
ravanV ‘ Vous Hes un impertinent ! ’ exclaimed 
the outraged Story. Here the agent began to 
bluster and fume, and asked if he, as a for- 
eigner, knew precisely the meaning of the word 
impertinent. ‘ Perhaps not,’ said Story, coolly. 
‘ Allow me to inform you that it is the most 


ART GOSSIP. 


215 


insulting word you can use to a Frenchman.’ 
‘ Thank you,’ returned Story ; ‘ then allow me 
to tell you that vous etes un impertinent ! ’ ” 

“ Plucky fellow,” said Spencer ; “ and, singu- 
larly enough, here he comes.” 

Two young men made their way through the 
crowd, and one of them, approaching Carroll, 
took him by the hand, and remarked, “ I fear 
you had a stupid night, at our house, last 
Wednesday.” 

“ On the contrary, I think my leaving at two 
o’clock shows that I enjoyed myself.” 

“ But, then, it was so dark and gloomy. I 
am fond of plenty of light ; but it always hap- 
pens so, when we stay at home our lamps go 
out But here is Ames, who has been looking 
for you.” 

“ Ames, how are you ? ” said Carroll, giving 
the other a cordial grasp. I heard that you 
had a commission to paint a portrait of fhe 
Pope, which hurried you on to Rome ; but I 
did not think you would pass through Florence 
without calling on me.” 

“ He is a lucky dog,” said Story, “ and has 
had a success quite equal to that of Benjamin 
West, when he first visited Rome.” 


216 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


« Tell US all about it,” said Carroll, seating 
himself at a separate table, with his two 
friends. 

‘‘ Last winter I received an order from a 
church in New Orleans, to go to K-ome and 
paint a full-length portrait of Pio Nono. I had 
a letter from the archbishop, introducing me, 
and requesting His Holiness to give me the 
necessary sittings. I was most cordially re- 
ceived, and the Pope ordered an apartment in 
the Quirinal to be made ready for me. On the 
day appointed I was at my post. A Swiss 
guard came several times to request me to be in 
readiness, as his Holiness was soon coming — 
at last he made his appearance, accompanied 
by two cardinals. He was dressed in a short 
scarlet cloak and white under-robe. Wishing 
me a lively good morning, he gayly mounted the 
platform on which I had placed his chair, and 
the two cardinals stood while he was seated. 
You may imagine that, to an American, the 
etiquette of the Roman Court was interesting, 
if not amusing. The two cardinals, in waiting, 
stood like respectful statues — never venturing 
to speak unless addressed. The Vicegerent of 
God sat, tapping the lid of his gold snuff-box 


ART GOSSIP. 


217 


in time to the airs of an opera, which he would 
occasionally hum. Whenever he rose they 
would fall upon their knees, and remain in that 
position until he took his seat again. At first, 
I was a little puzzled to know what to do on 
these occasions ; but, as my business was to 
paint his portrait, I stuck to my work, and at 
last got so used to hear the rustling of his 
robes, when rising, followed by the sound of 
the marrow-bones of the attendants, rattling on 
the pavements, that I paid little or no attention, 
excepting to my picture. On the second or 
third day, while I was busily engaged in getting 
up the effect of my picture — thrashing in color 
right and left — as I was stepping back to exam- 
ine the effect, I came very near knocking over 
the Pope, who had descended from his throne, 
and stood behind me, totally unconscious of his 
vicinity. ^ Bravo ! benissimo!^ said he, approv- 
ingly. ‘ I see you paint after the manner of the 
English school ; ’ — turning to one of the cardi- 
nals, ‘ How does it strike you as a likeness ? ’ 
asked he. ‘ As true as the reflection from a 
mirror, Saniitd,^ ‘ Ci ho gusio^ said he, with a 
pinch of snuff. I finished my study of his head 
in a little more than a week, and told him I 


218 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


should require no more sittings, if I could have 
the use of the robes, jewelry, &c. necessary to 
represent him in the act of giving benediction 
at high mass. He immediately gave orders to 
have them brought to me, with the key of the 
apartment.” 

“ How long were you occupied in finishing 
your full-length ? ” asked Carroll, who was 
highly interested and amused by his friend’s 
narration. 

“ About a month. It was my first whole- 
length of life-size, and I was obliged to proceed 
with great caution. I selected one of the academy 
models, who was of about the size and figure 
of the Pope, intending to use him not only as a 
model for the action, but as a lay figure for the 
costume. He was so elated at the idea of hav- 
ing been rigged out in all that papal finery, that 
he got as drunk as a fiddler on the money I paid 
him for his first pose^ and I was obliged to dis- 
miss him, and employed another model, who 
proved to be better suited to my purposes. I 
was requested to send word to His Holiness 
when my picture was finished, and he came 
with a large party, to pronounce upon it. He 
seemed in high spirits — was pleased to pay me 


ART GOSSIP. 


219 


a very flattering compliment — and gave me a 
formal benediction.” 

“ I congratulate you, with all my heart,” said 
Carroll. “ You see, Allston was right, when 
looking at one of your pictures which I showed 
him ; he said, ‘ I can only say of him what 
Carracci said of Domenichino, Give that lad 
rope enough, and there is no knowing how far 
he will carry the art.’ Was this your last inter- 
view with the Pope ? ” 

“ No,” replied Ames, laughing heartily. “ My 
last interview with him was one of the droll- 
est incidents I ever met with. About a month 
after this I went, with a medical friend, into 
the suburbs, to dine at a little trattoria^ famous 
for the excellence of a certain dish, and a favor- 
ite resort of the artists. We were riding along 
quietly, chatting and laughing gayly, and enjoy- 
ing the scenery, which is very picturesque in 
that neighborhood, when the coachman sud- 
denly stopped his horses, dismounted from his 
box, and said that the papal cortege was 
approaching. We observed that everybody 
descended from their carriages, and waited for 
the Pope’s equipages to pass. So, we did the 
same. It is his custom to drive out at some 


220 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


distance from the city, and then to leave his 
carriage, and walk, accompanied by some of 
the cardinals and gentlemen of his court. As 
he went by, all in our neighborhood dropped on 
their knees. My friend and I stood, respectfully 
bowing, with uncovered heads. The Pope, on 
seeing me, addressed me in English, asking 
after my health, present occupations, &c. and, 
wishing me good-bye, made the sign of bene- 
diction over my head. All the gentlemen of his 
train immediately took off their hats, and made 
a reverential salute, and they passed on. When 
we reentered the carriage it was very amusing 
to observe that the coachman evidently took 
me for a foreign prince in disguise ; he fre- 
quently turned round and stared at me as if he 
were in doubt whether I were the Emperor of 
Russia or King of Bavaria. Ten minutes after- 
wards the Pope had taken his seat in the car- 
riage. On his return, driving past us again 
in a great hurry, he leaned towards us, and 
again made the sign of benediction. The 
same salutation from his whole court fol- 
lowed, and I was obliged to pay for playing 
the big man, for the first time in my life, by 
a buonamcino of a dollar to the coachman, 


ART GOSSIP. 


221 


who, previously, had expected only a paul or 
two.” 

Carroll laughed heartily ; “ Coachmen,” said 
he, “ make very frequent blunders in their esti- 
mation of the character of their fares, as they 
technically call them. My friend. Professor 
Felton, relates a very amusing story of an 
excursion which he made to the White Moun- 
tains last summer. The party consisted, if I 
remember rightly, of himself. Professors Agas- 
siz, the naturalist, Peirce, the mathematician, 
and four or five other scientific friends. As 
they wound their way up a steep ascent the 
gentlemen left the carriage ; and, walking along 
through the fields by the roadside, examined 
such objects as they found interesting. One 
took out a hammer, and pegged away upon 
some mineralogical specimen ; another col- 
lected rare plants and flowers. When they 
returned to the coach they were all laden with 
the treasures which they had acquired, and with 
which they were delighted. One had a handful 
of stones, and the others had either wild flow- 
ers, or moths, beetles, and caterpillars pinned, 
in great quantities, upon their coat lappels. 
Mr. Felton, alone, sat in the coach, perusing a 


222 


ERXEST CARROLL. 


favorite Greek author, whose style proved more 
attractive to him than the uncongenial exercise 
of butterfly hunting. ‘ Who are those fellows ? ’ 
asked the coachman, on their third sortie from 
the coach in quest of new objects of interest. 

‘ They are a party of naturalists,’ said the Pro- 
fessor, wishing not to be interrupted. ‘ Ah ! ’ 
replied he, with a wiseacre look, ‘ that accounts 
for it, poor fellows! ’ 

‘‘ A few days afterwards the party was in- 
creased by the arrival, at the Mountain House, 
of a gentleman and lady, the former of whom, 
jokingly, told Felton that he had been driven 
there by the same coachman who had brought 
up his party, ‘ And a very pretty character 
he gives of you. “ Last Thursday,” said he, 
“ I drove up a set of the queerest acting fel- 
lows I ever saw — they were dressed like 
gentlemen, and were all of them thirty-five 
or forty years of age ; but they kept jumping 
out of the coach, and, like children of five or 
six years of age, run about the fields chasing 
after butterflies and insects, which they stuck 
all over their clothes. Their keeper told me 
they was naturals ; and, judging by their con- 
duct, I should say they was.” ’ Thus, you see. 


ART GOSSIP. 


223 


you passed for a foreign prince, and the learned, 
gentle, and amiable Greek professor, for the 
stern keeper of a set of idiots. What makes 
it still more ludicrous, is the fact that these 
supposed idiots possessed the soundest intellect, 
and were among the most brilliant scholars of 
the age.” 

“ What sad smokers you Americans are,” said 
Otway, joining the party. “ This is my first 
and only cigar — it is but half consumed, and 
Can-oil is now lighting his third. Smoking with 
an Englishman is, I think, an acquired habit ; 
but, you Americans seem to have imbibed a 
love for tobacco with your mother’s milk.” 

“ Greenough made the same remark, yester- 
day,” said Carroll, “ and gave me a very amus- 
ing anecdote in illustration of it. A Virginia 
gentleman, on leaving Florence, gave him a 
large plug of Cavendish chewing-tobacco, as- 
suring him that it was of the purest James 
River leaf, and unsurpassed for strength and 
flavor. Greenough accepted it with due ac- 
knowledgment ; and, not using tobacco in that 
form, placed it on the mantel-piece of his studio, 
under some papers, and forgot it. A month or 
two afterwards a captain of the United States 


224 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


navy — or commodore, as we style them — called, 
with a party of ladies, at his studio. ‘ The 
commodore,’ said Greenough, ‘seemed jaded 
and out of humor, which I attributed to his 
having been dragged about sight-seeing, by the 
ladies, against his will. The fact was he had 
exhausted his supply of tobacco, and was 
wretched in consequence. Will you believe it, 
sir, with the true scent of a hound, he made a 
bee-line for the mantel-piece, and unhoused the 
tobacco ? He applied it to his nostrils, nodded 
his head approvingly, and, whipping out a jack- 
knife, helped himself to a bountiful quid, and 
then put a large slice into his waistcoat pocket. 
The effect was instantaneous and miraculous — 
color came to his cheeks, his eyes sparkled, and 
he joined in the conversation wdth great glee 
and animation. When the ladies expressed a 
desire to take leave, I attended them to the 
door, when the commodore, taking me by the 
hand, “ Mr. Greenough,” said he, “ when I 
heard that Congress had ordered a statue of 
Washington (the Father of his country,) to be 
executed by a young artist, hardly twenty-five 
years of age, I thought it was a great mistake, 
and I lost no opportunity of expressing this 


ART GOSSIP. 


225 


opinion both in public and private. But, sir, I 
am happy to say that, from some things which 
I have seen in this studio,” (here he slyly exhib- 
ited a corner of the precious weed in his waist- 
coat pocket,) “ I am perfectly satisfied that a 
wiser or more judicious choice could not have 
been made. Good day, sir. I am indebted to 
you for the pleasantest morning I have passed 
in Florence.” ’ 

“ Capital ! ” said Otway. “ That was so like 
my friend Jack Auchmuty, now dead and gone, 
poor fellow. He was a lieutenant in your navy, 
and was here in ’31 or ’32, and kept me in a 
constant roar by the liveliness of his wit and 
the exuberant flow of his spirits. When he 
was a midshipman — quite a boy — he happened 
to be stationed at Leghorn at the time Lord 
Byron was living there. Byron having ex- 
pressed a desire to visit the American man-of- 
war, (the Constitution, I think,) Jack was sent 
on shore by the commander, at the head of a 
boat’s crew, to bring him off. On their way to 
the vessel, Byron asked Jack to allow him to 
look at his sword, remarking that he was curi- 
ous in the matter of arms. ‘ Certainly,’ said 
Jack, unbuckling his sword, and presenting it. 

15 


226 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Byron, after examining the workmanship, and 
trying the temper of the blade, looked for the 
name of the manufacturer, and, seeing that of 
a celebrated Sheffield house, he returned it, 
saying, ‘ I perceive that you Americans do not 
disdain to use British arms.’ ‘ No, my lord,’ 
said Jack, ‘ we make a point of using the best 
of every thing.’ That was very neatly said.” 

“ Confound that waiter,” said Story ; “ he 
came very near upsetting the contents of my 
coffee-cup directly into your lap.” 

“ I suppose he would not understand the 
force of the expression, if you called him ‘ un 
impertinenV ” 

“ Who told you that ? ” asked Story. 

“ Tom Pearton, the American Sydney Smith, 
as I call him. He has said more good things, I 
believe, than any man living; his mind is so 
original, that whatever passes through it comes 
out tinged by a most racy humor and irresisti- 
ble drollery. You know Dr. P., of Boston, who 
is remarkable for his ingenious application of 
science to various practical purposes. Among 
other things, he has invented a mode of em- 
balming, which he boasts can be done, by his 
process, at a comparatively small cost. Some 


ART GOSSIP. 


227 


one at the club, one day, mentioned him as a 
very remarkable man, known but little out of 
his own circle. ‘ I know all about him,’ said 
Tom; ‘he can embalm you cheaper than you 
can be buried, and make you a handsome 
ornament to any parlor.’ I went with him one 
evening to see a new play, and proposed taking 
seats near the orchestra. ‘ Oh, no,’ said Tom, 
‘ I have a slight cold, and doubt the prudence 
of sitting so near those wind instruments.’ 
His conversation sparkled, throughout the 
evening, like a fountain in sunshine. An 
isolated jeu d’esprit gives, however, no more 
idea of his wit than a cup of water from the 
fountain of its whole effect, while playing. 
Unlike the Italians and French, who point 
their meaning with their fingers, and enhance 
it by their shrugs, he sends forth the children 
of his brain with a laissez-aller air, as if he 
hardly thought the paternity did him honor.” 

As it was getting late, Carroll regretted that 
his friends had arrived in Florence just as he 
was leaving it. “ But,” said he, “ you will 
remain here a month or two, you say. I shall 
endeavor to be back long before you leave — 
so. good night. Good-bye, Otway ; good-bye, 
Spencer.” 


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PART III. 


AUSTRIA AND ITALY IN 1847-8. 


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PART III. 


CHAPTER L 

VIENNA. 

The fourth day after that described in the 
last chapter, found Carroll on the post-road 
leading from Milan to Vienna. The traveller 
who journeys from Italy northward, after pass- 
ing the Alps, exchanges the ever-varying pic- 
turesqueness of its minute masses for prospects 
bounded by ranges of mountains, which, being 
of an uniform regularity of curve, become ex- 
ceedingly tiresome and monotonous to the eye. 
To Carroll they seemed an illustration of the 
broad and inexpressive physiognomy of the 
quiet Germans, as compared with the change- 
able expressions and animated gestures of their 
more volatile and excitable neighbors of the 
south. An American finds the cool air bracing 


232 


ERNEST CARROLL, 


and invigorating, and the language so similar 
to his own, in its sound and inflections, that it 
recalls to his memory the scenes of his child- 
hood. Carroll had acquired a sufficient knowl- 
edge of the German language to read and write 
it with tolerable accuracy, but never having had 
the opportunity of speaking it, it fell strangely 
on his ear, and for a day or two it seemed to him 
as if he were listening to English words, inco- 
herently put together. Stopping, one day, at a 
small inn by the roadside, to bait the horses 
and to dine, he took a seat in the carriage to 
smoke a cigar. A large mastiff, who stood near 
him, looked the original of a picture which he 
remembered to have seen in his primer, illus- 
trating the lines, 

“ A was an archer, and shot at a frog, 

B was a butcher, and kept a big dog.’^ 

Amused by the reminiscence, he endeavored to 
renew his acquaintance with bow-wow, by imi- 
tating the whine of a puppy, which he did so 
well that the mastiff set up a fearful howling 
and barking. An old woman, who was polish- 
ing a score of brass candlesticks in a shed 
near by, smiling, made some remark in German, 


VIENNA. 


233 


which, to Carroll’s ear, only conveyed the gra- 
tuitous information that he had gangrene in 
his ox-neck ! ” By degrees, however, his ear 
became habituated to the pronunciation, and 
he was soon able not only to make known his 
wants, but to amuse himself by conversing with 
those he met. 

Taking advantage of the railroad wherever 
it was possible, he made such speed that, on the 
seventh day, he found himself at the gates of 
Vienna, which although small in the circuit 
comprised within the walls, yet, taken with its 
numerous suburbs, struck him as one of the 
most imposing capitols he had seen. At a short 
distance from the Kaiser Thor, his carriage was 
stopped by an officer of the customs, who, after 
looking at his passport, addressed him in Ital- 
ian, asking his name, age, and profession. Car- 
roll, who in his own country, had always been 
styled “ gentleman,” and modestly considered 
himself at present only an amateur student of 
art, replied to the last question, that he had no 
profession, which had its due effect. “ I under^ 
stand,” said the officer; ‘‘rentier^ a gentleman 
travelling for pleasure. Buon viaggio. Your 
landlord will take care of your passport,” and 


234 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


he allowed him to go on without opening his 
trunks, although Carroll saw many others over- 
hauled and examined with the most rigid 
strictness. 

After a good night’s rest at the “ Erzherzog 
Carl,” whither, in obedience to the recommen- 
dations of Murray’s Guidebook, he had been 
conveyed, he breakfasted leisurely, and, sum- 
moning a valet de place, he ordered a coach, 
and drove at once to the American embassy. 

On inquiring for Mr. S., Carroll learned that 
he was absent, but was told that his secretary 
could attend to any business he might have 
with the minister. Carroll sent up his card, and 
was presently ushered into a small office, where 
he found the secretary. 

“ Mr. Carroll,” said the young man, rising, 
“ I am sorry to say that Mr. S. is absent. He 
delayed his journey a day or two, supposing, 
from this package addressed to you, under his 
care, that you would soon be here. He desired 
me to deliver it, and to say that if your time 
and occupations would allow, he should be much 
gratified by your making him a visit at Graefen- 
berg, whither he has gone to spend a month or 
two with his family.” 


VIENNA. 


235 


“ Graefenberg, I believe,” said Carroll, “ is 
the head-quarters of hydropathy. I hope that 
neither the health of Mr. S., nor of any of his 
family, requires such severe regimen as Priessnitz 
is said to impose on his patients.” 

“ Oh, no, they are all very well ; but suffering 
somewhat from the effects of being confined 
during a long and rather severe Austrian winter. 
The fresh mountain air and a light cure, which 
amounts only to a course of gymnastics, have 
been recommended to him by his physician. 
Our first physicians now recommend the water- 
cure in many cases. At Graefenberg you will 
find the best society, and Mr. S. said that he 
hoped you would join him.” 

“ How far from here is it ? ” asked Carroll. 

“ About two hundred miles ; you reach it by 
railroad and posting, in two days.” 

“ I should be glad to see this somewhat noto- 
rious place,” said Carroll, “ to say nothing of 
the pleasure of meeting Mr. S.” 

He opened the package which he had re- 
ceived, and found the memorial and a letter 
from the princess. On running his eye over the 
contents, he saw that she urged him to lose no 
time in pressing the matter, and his mind was 
made up. 


236 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Can I go to-day ? ’’ asked he. 

“ No, sir; the train left at seven this morning, 
and you will be obliged to wait till to-morrow. 
I will take care of your passport, and have it 
properly visS^ and sent to your hotel. In the 
mean time you can amuse yourself by looking 
about the city.” 

Carroll expressed his thanks for the polite 
kindness of the secretary, and took his leave. 
Driving to the Imperial Gallery, he dismissed 
his coach, and spent some four or five hom's in 
examining this rich collection. It was now 
near dinner-time, and he requested his guide to 
conduct him home, as he preferred walking the 
short distance, in order to see something of a 
new city so different from any he had yet visited. 
He was deeply impressed by the splendor of 
several palaces, pointed out by his guide, as the 
residences of rich and powerful nobles, by the 
elegance of their equipages, and the rich dis- 
play of goods in the shop-windows, rivalling 
those of Paris or London. Cleanliness, and 
the prevalence of law and order were every- 
where conspicuous. In most of the large streets 
and public places placards were posted, stating 
that “ Begging, in this neighborhood, is strictly 
forbidden.” 


VIENNA. 


237 


Passing along the promenade upon the Bas- 
tion which surrounds Vienna proper, he was 
accosted by a little boy of about ten years of 
age, who offered for sale a withered bouquet of 
flowers. As their appearance was by no means 
tempting or attractive, Carroll declined purchas- 
ing, and the boy followed importuning him. 
Suddenly a gentleman, seated on a stone bench 
on the side-walk, sprang from his seat, and 
collaring the boy, dragged him along. Carroll 
was aware that the little fellow had fallen into 
the clutches of one of the secret police, who, 
undistinguished by their dress, are everywhere 
present to watch and punish all infractions of 
municipal edicts. The boy struggled in an 
agony of terror. “ My mother is sick,” he cried, 
“ and I want to sell my flowers to buy her 
some bread.” Carroll’s heart was touched, and 
rushing to the officer, “ excuse me a moment,” 
he said, “ the lad did not beg, he only offered 
his flowers for sale. Slipping a Napoleon into 
his hand, he put his arm around his waist and 
felt his little heart throbbing like a trip-hammer. 

“ He is a nuisance,” said the officer, “ and 
has been repeatedly cautioned not to come 
here.” 


238 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ My dear sir,” said Carroll, placing another 
Napoleon in the hand of the official, ‘‘ I will be 
guaranty that he will not offend again, if you 
will let him go this time. Be merciful.” 

“ Since you request it, your pleasure shall be 
done,” said he, releasing his prey. 

A sunny smile of gratitude and delight shone 
through the April tears of the little fellow, who 
thanked Carroll repeatedly, and then took to his 
heels contented and happy. 

“ Stern, cruel, and hateful Despotism,” mut- 
tered Carroll to himself, “ by your severe penal 
enactments you forbid poverty to obtrude its 
sorrows upon the ear of Luxury. The Syba- 
rite’s bed of roses must not contain a single 
withered leaf.” 

Passing through the Graben, (the Bond Street 
of Vienna,) he observed a peculiarity in the 
signs of the fashionable shops. Instead of 
lettered placards or signs, giving the names of 
the proprietors, as is usual, each window dis- 
played a large picture, many of them having 
claim to considerable artistic merit. A full- 
length portrait of Prince Metternich, with an 
inscription “ Zum Fursten Metternich^'* showed 
that the establishment was named after that 


VIENNA. 


239 


celebrated personage. Not far from it, another 
of the Due de Reichstadt was seen. A third 
exhibited a colossal human eye, painted in 
gigantic proportions. Carroll naturally took the 
shop for that of an optician, until he read 
the inscription, “ Zum Gottes AugenP — “At the 
sign of God’s eye.” 

“ Boy, what is this ? ” asked he, halting at a 
large stump of a tree in front of an elegant 
shop-window. It was entirely incased with 
iron nail heads, driven so closely together, that 
not a particle of the wood was to be seen. 

“ This is the blacksmith’s stump,” said the 
valet de place. “ It is customary in Austria for 
young apprentices, in most of the trades, to 
travel for the space of three years, getting em- 
ployment where they can. They carry with 
them a book called a Wander-book, in which 
are written the certificates of those by whom 
they are employed. They are called Wander- 
ing Apprentices. From time immemorial, every 
young blacksmith who has worked in Vienna, 
has recorded the fact by driving into this stump 
a nail of his own manufacture, until it has be- 
come impossible to insert another. This one on 
the top, marked by a cross, is said to have been 


240 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


driven in after a lapse of many years, during 
which time it was thought impossible for any 
one to leave his mark.” 

“ What a touching record of the coming and 
passing away of generations,” thought Carroll. 
“ Of all the hands which fashioned and planted 
here a specimen of their cunning, probably not 
one remains. The emulation and rivalry of 
these craftsmen have ceased, and they now re- 
pose in the bosom of mother earth, on a par 
with princes and nobles.” 

His guide then pointed to a baker’s shop, 
ornamented by a piece of sculpture in alto ri~ 
lievo^ representing a Turk on horseback. “ Here 
is an interesting relic of olden times. During 
the siege of Vienna by the Turks, a baker, then 
master of this shop, was one day surprised to 
hear the sound of voices speaking a foreign 
language near the walls of his cellar. It 
occurred to him that the enemy had mined his 
way into the city. He gave immediate informa- 
tion of the fact to the military commanders. 
The Turks were countermined and slaughtered. 
To reward the baker for having preserved 
the city and the lives of its inhabitants, the 
magistrates gave him the monopoly of a partic- 


VIENNA. 


241 


ular form of bread, called the Gipfel^ or, as the 
Italians pronounce it, ChifeL It is made in the 
shape of a crescent, in token of its origin, and 
the baker is said to have acquired a large 
fortune.” 

Amused and entertained by gossip of this 
kind, Carroll arrived at his hotel, where a good 
dinner and a bottle of Johannisberg awaited 
him. 

On perusing the long letter of the princess, he 
was delighted to find the following passage : — 

“ The words you spoke to me at the Cas- 
cine were seeds which fell upon good ground. 
They have caused me to reflect seriously upon 
the subject of religion — and to doubt the truth of 
that in which I was educated. I lately remarked 
to a learned bishop, that I had found Protestants 
generally men of pure characters and morals.” 

“ For a very good reason, car a mia” said 
he. “ They hope to enter Paradise on the 
merits of their good works, but we, the chil- 
dren of the true Church, are sure of our claims 
to admittance.” 

“ I was much shocked by the inconsistency 
of this remark. I have searched the Scriptures 
with a fervent spirit of inquiry. I find no di- 
16 


242 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


vine authority for the institution of confession, 
or the remission of sins. I look upon the Pope 
as anti-christ, and his followers ‘as wolves in 
sheep’s clothing.’ In heart I am already a 
Protestant, but I have not the courage to make 
myself a martyr. While I remain in Italy I 
must conform to its laws, and trust that God 
will pardon me for ‘ rendering unto Caesar the 
things which are Caesar’s.’ ” 

Carroll sighed to think that the crowning 
grace of perfection was now put upon one 
already too dearly beloved, and that she could 
never be his. 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


243 


CHAPTER 11. 

LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 

On the morning of CarrolPs departure from 
Vienna, the young American Secretary called 
and proposed to accompany him to the rail- 
way station. “ You will take the cars to Ho- 
henstadt,’’ said he, and thence by a post-coach 
you will arrive at Freywaldau on the evening 
of the second day. Freywaldau is a small 
village at the foot of the mountain called 
Graefenberg, on which Priessnitz’s establishment 
stands at a distance of a mile or more. At 
Freywaldau there is a tolerable inn, and plenty 
of comfortable lodging-houses, in one of which 
you will find Mr. S.” Bidding the young 
man good-by at the station, Carroll took his 
seat in a second-class car, as recommended by 
the Secretary, on account of the privilege of 
smoking, announced by a long inscription 


244 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


painted on the outside. He was seated by the 
side of a gentlemanly and intelligent German, 
to whom the offer of an Havana cigar served 
as an introduction. The German pointed out 
many objects of interest, which would other- 
wise have escaped his attention. “We are 
now passing through the estates of Prince 
Lichtenstein, one of the largest landholders 
in Austria. They extend on each side of 
the road for more than ten miles.’^ 

Carroll remarked upon the high state of 
cultivation in the wheat fields and pastures ; 
he observed large droves of fine cattle and 
sheep tended by peasants in sheepskin jackets. 
The weather was fine, and the landscape re- 
minded him of the sunny views, scenes, and 
subjects portrayed by the true pencil of Cuyp. 

After sleeping at Hohenstadt, he had a tedi- 
ous ride over bad roads, through an uninterest- 
ing country. The log cabins, with their neigh- 
boring manure heaps, (which met his eye at 
every turn,) seemed more like those of an Irish 
peasantry than of the Germans who are noted 
for cleanliness. 

At about 8 o’clock of the evening, a merry 
blast of the postilion’s bugle told Carroll that 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


245 


the fatigues of the day would soon be over. 
The horses dashed into the square of Freywal- 
dau in fine style, and brought up at the door 
of a modest inn, under the sign of the Goldene 
Krone. 

The landlord, Heinrich Wirth, welcomed 
the traveller in English, and showed him into 
a comfortable parlor with a bedroom adjoin- 
ing. 

“Will you take any supper?” asked he, “I 
can give you some soup, fried trout, and a 
roasted hare, in five minutes.” 

“ By all means,” said Carroll. “ What wines 
have you ? ” Wirth handed a little card show- 
ing a list of his wines. 

“ How is your Markobrunner ? ” 

“ I think you will say that you never drank 
better.” 

While Carroll washed and changed his dress, 
the table was laid, and supper brought up, 
'which proved to be admirably cooked, and the 
wine fully worthy the landlord’s boast. 

“ Do you know where Mr. S., the Amer- 
ican Minister, is living ? ” 

“ Directly opposite, sir.” 

“ I should like to send a note to him. I 


246 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


have invited him to breakfast with me to-mor- 
row, at 9 o’clock.” 

“ It shall be sent at once, sir. I must trou- 
ble you for your passport.” 

The messenger returned in a few minutes, 
bringing a cordial acceptance, and Carroll hav- 
ing read for an hour or two, retired to rest, 
after a day of great fatigue. 

On the following morning, his ears were 
greeted by the lively strains of music, which 
seemed to be directly under his window. Look- 
ing out he saw a band of men and women, 
numbering from eight to ten, playing on differ- 
ent instruments. Three of the women played 
the violin, and one of them a harp. The 
men were blowing French horns, clarionets, 
and flutes. They played admirably many of 
Strauss’s waltzes and polkas, which Carroll 
enjoyed highly. 

Having completed his toilette, he entered the 
parlor, where he found Wirth preparing the 
breakfast. 

“ I hope you have enjoyed your matinadej'^ 
said he, coining a word. “ It is in honor of 
your arrival. Each new comer is welcomed 
in this way.” 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


24T 


“ Indeed ” said Carroll. “ It is a pleasant 
custom — give them whatever is proper and 
charge it in my bill.” 

“ Five gvlden is a handsome remuneration,” 
replied the landlord, taking out a bank-note 
of that amount ; “ perhaps they would receive 
it more kindly if you would do them the honor 
to bestow it yourself — you can easily drop it 
from the window. It is the Laurenz family. 
They are our village musicians, and are amongst 
our most respectable burghers.” 

“ With all my heart,” said Carroll. On 
throwing down the money, he was saluted by 
bows and courteseys from all. They then played 
“ God save the King,” taking him for an Eng- 
lishman. 

“ How do they learn the arrival of a stran- 
ger ? ” asked he. 

“ From the police, who have notice of the 
arrival of every person within an hour ; this is 
required by law.” 

Mr. S. soon made his appearance. After 
an exchange of salutations and expressions of 
pleasure at meeting, the two friends sat down 
to breakfast, and the host left them. 

“ I must apologize for the liberty I have taken 


248 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


in inviting you here, instead of calling on you,’’ 
said Carroll, “ but the fact is, as I stated in my 
note, that I have a favor to ask, which I could 
not mention with propriety in the presence of 
others.” 

He then stated the object of his visit, and 
succeeded in interesting his friend in behalf of 
the Amalfis. Mr. S. assured him that he would 
lose no time in forwarding the memorial, and 
had no objections to ask for an immediate con- 
sideration of it, as a favor personal to himself. 
After perusing the document, he expressed his 
approval, and strong hopes that it would pro- 
duce the desired effect. “ If not, I shall make a 
point of going in person, and urging the matter 
strongly.” 

Our hero’s mind was now at ease, and the 
conversation took another turn. 

“ How do you contrive to pass your time 
here ? ” asked Carroll, whose ideas of the mode 
of life at a water-cure establishment were rather 
gloomy. 

“ Very pleasantly, indeed. There is plenty 
of good society, composed of the nobles, the 
learned, and fashionable of all countries. One 
is constantly meeting new characters. Society 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


249 


is on an easy and familiar footing. There is no 
want of balls and parties, and then there is not 
only a capital company of actors at the little 
theatre, but a Casino, or Club, where you get all 
the papers, and play billiards.’’ 

“ The acquisition of health and spirits, is a 
common object, and forms a sort of brotherhood 
among the cure-guests. It is very amusing to 
see a nobleman and a shopkeeper both wearing 
the same Graefenberg costume, drinking from 
the same fountains, and comparing notes of 
their individual cases. Let us adjourn to the 
window, where we can smoke our cigars, and take 
a peep at some of the celebrities of the place.” 

From the description his friend had given of 
the society there, Carroll expected to see a great 
display of fashion and wealth. And he was 
surprised to observe only groups of men and 
women looking like convicts in a prison-yard, 
or lunatics escaped from an asylum. The dress 
of most of the men consisted of a loose pair of 
linen pantaloons, fastened around the waist by 
a cord and tassel ; a cravatless shirt, and a linen 
sack. They were without hats, and the close 
crop of their hair gave them a peculiarly un- 
graceful appearance. 


250 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


The women’s loose dresses were almost as 
unambitious of elegance as the men’s. Many 
of them wore no stockings, and their hair hung 
in wet and dishevelled masses on their shoul- 
ders. Such was the general appearance of 
those who were taking an active cure. Among 
them, (few and far between,) were seen officers, 
beaux, and belles, in the most fashionable, and 
sometimes picturesque, costumes. These, Mr. 
S. informed Carroll, were “ generally guests who 
had made the cure with success, and were re- 
maining only for amusement, and the effect of 
the bracing mountain air.” 

“ That tall, strongly-built gentleman, who 
walks with difficulty up and down the square, 
supported by his Badediener^ or bath -servant, 
is Baron T., formerly a cavalry officer in the 
Dutch service. He is the oldest resident gradu- 
ate here, to use a college term. He has made a 
five years’ cure through summer and winter. 
During this time he has seen many brilliant 
cures which confirm his confidence, and he as- 
sured me, that the rigors of a severe winter’s 
course of bathing were to him a bed of roses, 
compared to what he suffered previously. 

“ That lady, who moves in such state, accom- 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


251 


panied by her daughter, and followed by a 
servant in showy livery, is the Countess Czech- 
enyi, wife of the celebrated Hungarian noble, to 
whom his countrymen are indebted for most of 
the public improvements. Count Czechenyi not 
only improved the navigation of the Danube, 
but established the line of steamboats which 
run regularly up and down that river. He is a 
man of great patriotism, talent, and public 
spirit. The young lady is the Countess Zichy, 
his step-daughter. She is making the cure with 
great assiduity and success. 

“ Near them you see a lady, accompanied by 
two gentlemen, with orders in their button-holes. 
The one on the right is the Tuscan Minister at 
Vienna, and the other Count Galuzzi from Flor- 
ence. The lady is the Marchesa Caraffa, who, 
in a month’s cure, seems to have thrown off 
twenty years of her age. 

“ Here comes Priessnitz ; he has just entered 
the square on horseback ; see how the guests 
flock around him in groups, each one waiting 
his turn to report his case, or to ask some im- 
portant question. 

“ As his patients number at present over one 
thousand, you may imagine that he is obliged, 


252 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


like a general, to give curt orders, and admits 
no questioners. But it is now eleven o’clock, 
and Mrs. S. will take her morning’s walk. Will 
you join us ? ” 

Mrs. S., a young, handsome, and most ami- 
able lady, received Carroll with cordial affa- 
bility on his being presented as the particular 
friend of her husband. “ Let us drop in at the 
Wychilini Garden,” said she, “ where the boys 
are waiting for me.” 

“ This garden was laid out by a German baron 
of that name, in gratitude for a brilliant cure 
made him some four or five years since. He 
also left a fund, the interest of which pays the 
gardener, who has charge of it. It is a favorite 
resort of the nurses and bonnes with their little 
flocks.” 

‘‘ Come, children,” said she, on entering, 
“ leave your play, and take your morning 
draught.” 

Two rosy-cheeked boys dashed up to the 
fountain, and each three times emptied the con- 
tents of a little cut-glass Bohemian tumbler, 
which their mother drew from her pocket. 

“ What a pretty little tumbler,” said Carroll, 
examining it. It was of ruby-colored glass. 


LIFE AT GRAEFENGERG. 


253 


flattened at the sides, making a convenient form 
for the pocket. It was skilfully engraved with 
views of some of the principal fountains of 
Graefenberg, with their monuments. 

“ It is Bohemian,’^ she replied. “ An immense 
number of these glasses is annually sent from 
Prague to this market. At Seyfert’s, you 
will see some exquisite specimens.” 

Ascending a few steps, the party struck into a 
broad path, well macadamized, which ran in a 
zigzag course, up the sides of Mount Graefen- 
berg. The day was fine, and the air delicious. 
At short distances from one another, were foun- 
tains, which, springing originally in gurgling rills 
from the mountain sides, had been confined by 
solid masonry, and made to spout their waters 
into marble basins. These fountains, or quelle^ 
as they are called by the Germans, were all of 
different forms and designs. To Carroll’s eye, 
one of the most imposing was the Hungarian, 
so called from its being erected by a subscrip- 
tion confined to the Hungarians at Graefenberg. 
Its design represented a granite pedestal, on 
which a lion of the size of life, reposed in cast- 
iron. The spring issued from an orifice in the 
pedestal, and the waters fell into a cast-iron sink 
on the ground. 


254 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Carroll had the curiosity to taste of each of 
these fountains, and found them invariably soft 
and pure as filtered rain-water, remarkably cold 
and sparkling with oxygen, like soda-water. As 
they approached the summit of the forest steep, 
they entered a grove of primitive forest-trees, 
which was crossed by intersecting by-paths, 
affording opportunity to exercise in the shade in 
hot weather. 

On leaving the wood, they came to Priessnitz’s 
establishment, standing about half-way between 
the base and summit of the mountain. The 
main building was a large, quadrangular house 
of many stories, crowned by a steep, gable-roof. 
An aile or wing at one end, bounded the yard 
or court, in which Priessnitz’s quelle stood. 
Crowds of peasant girls flocked around, offering 
plates and baskets of fresh mountain straw- 
berries for sale. 

On stopping to drink at the fountain, Carroll, 
who was much heated by the unwonted exercise 
of climbing mountains, was surprised to observe 
that his companions seemed livelier and fresher 
than on starting. 

“ It is the effect of the baths we took pre- 
paratory to our walk,” said Mrs. S. “ You 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBEKG. 


255 


must try the douche before returning. Let us 
rest awhile in the hall.” 

On entering the large Speise~saal^ or dining- 
room, Carroll, who had anticipated meeting 
among the patients many painful or revolting 
sights, was astonished to observe the general 
appearance of health and spirits remarkable on 
the faces of some fifty or sixty persons who 
were walking up and down the room, playing 
chess, or conversing in little groups. 

“ You would hardly imagine,” said S., “ that 
some of these patients are afflicted with 
severe chronic diseases, many of whom, pre- 
vious to coming, were confined to their beds. 
When the Archduke John was here, a few 
months ago, to visit the establishment, the 
guests got up a ball in honor of the occasion. 
The hall was decorated with great ingenuity 
and taste. A band of music played, and all 
joined either in the dance or promenade. 

“ The Archduke asked to see some of Priess- 
nitz’s patients, seeing no signs of invalidism 
around him. ‘ Here they are, your Highness. I 
believe only two are absent.’ He then retired 
with him into a corner, and calling up sev- 
eral of his worst cases, he introduced them 


256 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


to the duke, who was much interested in listen- 
ing to a recital of symptoms, diseases, and 
cures. On his return to Vienna, he forwarded 
to Priessnitz a large gold medal of the Emperor 
and a diploma, as a reward for his invention of 
the water-cure.” 

“ Your account is very interesting, and I am 
curious to learn something of this system which 
I have always heard sneered at as a piece of 
impudent charlatanism.” 

“ I shall refer you to Baron T., who is 
quite au fait in the matter. Will you try a 
douche before going home ? ” 

“ With all my heart,” said Carroll, who felt 
as if he were fast becoming a convert to some- 
thing utterly opposed to all common sense. 

Sauntering leisurely along, they came to a 
fork of the path, where a sign-board indicated 
that the right-hand path led to the Ladies’ 
douche^ and the left to the Gentlemen’s. 

Mr. S. and Carroll, followed by the two 
boys, took the latter path, and soon arrived at 
the <^OMc/ie-house, where they found Mr. S.’s 
Badediener in waiting with an armful of sheets. 
The boys were allowed to douche first, while 
Carroll and Mr. S. seated themselves on a 
bench outside. 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


257 


CarrolPs turn came next. Having received 
from the Badediener the necessary instructions, 
he entered the douche-ioom, A stream of water 
about five or six inches in diameter, led by 
means of a wooden spout from a mountain- 
stream above, fell from the height of fifteen or 
twenty feet upon the floor beneath with deafen- 
ing sounds. Taking a wooden platter in his 
hand, and gently applying its edges to the 
stream, he caused the water to spray over his 
face and chest. Then turning round, he re- 
ceived the whole force of the douche upon his 
back and shoulders. By slightly changing his 
position, he directed the water to all parts of 
his body. 

The height of the fall of water gave it great 
force, and the temperature was so low that its 
icy coldness caused his skin to tingle as if 
from the lash of a whip. He was unable to 
endure it for more than one minute, and re- 
turned to the dressing-room ; his skin, glowing 
with a healthy reaction — and his muscles, 
knotted up like those of a trained athlete. 

He was immediately enveloped in a capa- 
cious, coarse linen sheet, by the Badediener^ 
who began vigorously to rub and dry him. 

17 


258 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Two opposite windows were then opened, in 
order to create a thorough draught, in whicli 
Carroll flapped the sheet with his arms, while 
the servant shook it from behind, creating a 
strong current of air. And he was, for the 
first time of his life, initiated into the mysteries 
of the Luft-bad. Coming to the outside, as Mr. 
S. entered, Carroll felt the air warm, balmy, 
and fragrant ; all his senses were doubly 
acute. As he quaffed a draught from a neigh- 
boring quelle^ the sky seemed to have gained 
an intensity and purity of azure, which he had 
seldom seen equalled. 

The merry sound of laughter from the two 
boys, who were chasing each other among the 
trees, soon caught his ear, and, joining them, he 
frisked and capered around with all the gayety 
of a child. 

“ Bravo ! ” said Mr. S., who had finished 
dressing, after his douche ; “ I see that your 
bath has had the proper effect.” 

They were soon joined by Mrs. S., and the 
whole party merrily descended at a quick pace. 

Carroll accepted, with pleasure, an invitation 
to dine at the S.’s. It was so long since he had 
found himself in the bosom of an American 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


259 


family, that he felt quite at home. He was 
much amused by the lively sallies of the boys, 
who were fine specimens of Young America; 
and the modest elegance of the manners of 
their sister, struck him as very engaging. 

“ Do you ever bathe in the river, Bobby ? ” 
asked he of one of them. 

“ E/iver ? ’’ replied the lad ; “ I have not seen 
one in Europe — they are all mere brooks ! I 
have jumped over the bed of many a one, with 
a big name. I wonder what they would say to 
some of our streams, if they call these rivers ? ” 
Carroll was amazed at the extent of their 
appetites — Mrs. S. apologized, with a smile, 
“ You have no idea of the effect of the water- 
cure. Priessnitz says that the waste of animal 
heat, under the cure, requires a corresponding 
supply from food.” 

“ Those boys,” said S., “ each consume daily 
the rations of an old salt at sea; — you have seen 
only half a specimen of their prowess ; wait 
until the pudding comes on.” 

A Kug-lupf^ or pudding, of the size and shape 
of a man’s hat, soon made its appearance, and 
was speedily demolished. 

After an hour’s pleasant chat at the dinner- 


260 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


table, Mr. S. and Carroll, lighting cigars, strolled 
over to the Casino, adjoining the hotel, where 
he subscribed and became a member. 

A mixed party of Russians, Germans, 
French, Italians, and English, were smoking 
and playing at billiards, or lounging in the 
reading-room. Carroll made many agreeable 
acquaintances, and adjourned from the smoke 
and noise of the club-rooms to a seat under 
an awning, in front of the house. Here he was 
introduced to Baron T., the paralyzed Dutch 
officer, whom he found a very gentlemanly 
and agreeable person. He spoke English so 
well that one would have taken him for an 
Englishman. 

The Baron gave him an interesting account 
of his experiences, and endeavored to explain 
to him his ideas of the water-cure. “ It is,” 
said he, “ a philosophy rather than a system 
of medicine — Priessnitz does not pretend that 
water is a specific, or a panacea. The mode 
of applying it is much varied by circumstances. 
As far as I understand it, the theory is this : 
The force of vitality is in proportion to the 
rapidity of the currents of caloric from the 
internal and vital organs, to the exterior, and 
back again. 


LIFE AT GRAEPENBERG. 


261 


“ Now, this rapidity may be increased in two 
opposite ways : first, by the generation of in- 
ternal heat, by means of food and stimulants, 
which is the normal mode of refection ; or, sec- 
ondly, by the application of cold to the exterior, 
which causes the caloric of the interior to rush 
outward, in order to supply that which has 
been abstracted. 

“ This hypothesis explains many of the phe- 
nomena of daily experience ; as, for instance, 
the lassitude and debility of extremely hot 
weather, the bracing and invigorating effects 
of clear cold weather, and the chilliness expe- 
rienced in the first stages of digesting a hearty 
dinner. 

“ Priessnitz’s system, expressed in general 
terms, amounts to this : By the constant al- 
ternations of heat and cold, which he produces 
by his applications, he creates in the sick body 
those changes which take place naturally in the 
healthy one. A morning’s packing puts your 
body into a fine glow, calling the blood to the 
surface — you are then plunged into an icy cold 
bath, and the caloric is rapidly forced back to 
your vitals. On leaving the bath a healthy re- 
action takes place ; and on rubbing, drying, and 


262 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


dressing yourself, you enjoy a pleasant glowing 
warmth again. If you remain inactive this 
subsides, and leaves you chilly. You are 
ordered to walk or run till you are perfectly 
comfortable — you then drink freely of water, 
which chills you again, and again exercise and 
drink for an hour or two. 

“ The action of water, taken in this manner, 
seems to be twofold. There is a mechanical 
action caused by the churning, as it were, of 
this column of water, by the means of the 
motion of the body, operating like a manip- 
ulation of the viscera, and other organs — 
clearing and carrying off all viscid and im- 
pure secretions. 

“ There would seem to be, also, a chemical 
action, which separates the oxygen from the 
water in large quantities, and infuses it into 
the system. Certain it is, that most patients 
who take the cure successfully, experience from 
their morning draughts of water, an exhilara- 
tion of spirits seldom attained by the use of 
champagne. 

“ Professor Liebig, a great authority with us, 
remarked that Priessnitz’s theory seemed to 
him not only sound, but extremely ingenious. 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


263 


I understand him to aim at the rapid forma- 
tion of new organic matter by means of a 
rapid combustion, produced by artificial means. 
I am convinced, that under his treatment a 
greater amount of combustion takes place in 
three months than in as many years of a natural 
life. The amount of food taken by a water- 
cure guest, with impunity, proves the extent 
of this increased combustion.” 

“ It is very interesting,” said Carroll, “ to 
hear an educated philosopher and chemist ex- 
plain a system intuitively framed by the genius 
of a peasant.” 

The reply of the Baron, who thus far had 
spoken very fluently, and with a perfectly Eng- 
lish accent and pronunciation, proved to Car- 
roll how difficult it was for one to master en- 
tirely a foreign language, for in a short sen- 
tence he contrived to mispronounce three 
words in a most ludicrous manner. Priessnitz 
had a month or two previously suffered from 
a rush of blood to the head. 

« It is usual,” said Baron T. ‘‘ to speak of 
Priessnitz as a pizzant It had been better for 
him to have continued the life of a pizzant; 
had he been in the habit of occasionally hand- 


264 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


ling the pluff^ he would not have been threatened 
with a-pop-plexy^’’ 

In the evening, Carroll accompanied Mr. 
and Mrs. S. to a ball given by the Graefen- 
bergers to the inhabitants of Freywaldau. 
The Speise-saal was brilliantly illuminated. 
The Laurenz band was playing lively mazurkas 
and polkas. The guests had laid aside their 
cure-dresses for their usual fashionable cos- 
tumes. Carroll with difficulty recognized in 
the elegantly attired and order-bespangled 
waltzers, gentlemen whom he had seen playing 
billiards in their shirt sleeves at the Casino in 
the afternoon. Madame R — , who had been 
pointed out to him as the wife of a distinguished 
Russian general, had exchanged her morning 
dress of a richly embroidered sack, plumed hat, 
red Russia leather boots, and a silver- mounted 
drinking horn, for a most recherche robe of 
white silk, sparkling with diamonds, and black 
velvet boots in which she stamped her pretty 
feet in time to the mazurka. The scene was 
lively, brilliant, and amusing. 

Suddenly starting, “ Surely,” exclaimed Car- 
roll, “ Graefenberg is a land of Paradoxes ! Do 
you see that negro dancing in the same set 


LIFE AT GRAEFENBERG. 


265 


with Madame R. ? Look, she extends her 
hand to him with the same coquettish smile 
as to her handsome and graceful partner.” 

S. smiling, remarked, “that negroes were 
so rare and little known in Europe, that they 
were admitted on the same footing as whites. 
This man is the village dancing-master, and 
as he directs the dances, he joins the company, 
and is rather a pet with the ladies.” 

Count Galuzzi, to whom Carroll had been 
introduced, overhearing this conversation, ob- 
served — “ I can easily understand how this 
strikes you. An American, I presume, would 
not think of dining with a negro any more 
than a Russian noble with one of his serfs. 
I believe you consider them as an inferior 
order of men.” 

“ And with reason I think. To say nothing 
of their intellect, their bodily organizations, 
physiologists tell us, prove them to be a link 
between men and the quadrupeds. The man- 
ner in which their pelvis or hips are placed 
upon their legs gives their bodies an inclina- 
tion forward, similar to that of an orang- 
outang; to counterbalance this, the head is 
thrown back and upwards.” 


266 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ In fact,” returned the Count, laughing 
heartily, “ now that you mention it, I remember 
this peculiarity in a man, whom my father 
employed as a stylish footman when I was a 
boy. Whenever Sambo, equipped in a Turkish 
costume, went towards the stables with a 
shambling gait, all the servants would gibe at 
and quiz him, by asking him what he expected 
to find up in the air.” 

“ It is curious to observe,” said Carroll, “ that 
the Greeks, who aimed at the beau ideal of 
the Caucasian race, always gave to their gods 
and heroes an inclination of the head forwards 
in the opposite direction.” 

“ Very true,” replied the Count, “ witness 
the Phidian Jove, and the antique heads of 
Juno, Minerva, and Baechus.” 

As it was now late in the evening, Carroll 
hastened home, and thus ended his first ex- 
periences in Graefenberg. 


A LITERARY MARCHESA. 


26T 


CHAPTER III. 

A LITERARY MARCHESA. 

Lest the reader should suspect the author of 
being a water-cure doctor in disguise, he would 
inform him, that the slight sketch which he has 
given of the theory and practice of Hydropathy 
was necessary to enable him to understand and 
appreciate some of the incidents which Carroll 
met with during a short stay at Freywaldau. 
The reader should always be put au courant 
with the hero. Carroll found himself sur- 
rounded by a set of people who seemed to be 
standing on their heads, and doing every thing 
in a way the very reverse to what he was accus- 
tomed to. He naturally asked reasons for what 
appeared so preposterous. Curiosity led him to 
go through one day’s cure, to enable him to 
watch its effects and experience its sensations. 

As he was in the enjoyment of perfect health, 
he wisely abstained from continuing the cure. 


268 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


having been cautioned by those best informed, 
that water is a more powerful stimulant than 
coffee, wine, or tobacco. And he became an 
amused spectator, but not a participator. 

During the week, while he was anxiously 
waiting for a reply to his friend S.’s applica- 
tion in favor of the Marquis Amalfi, his time 
was occupied by making excursions on foot 
or on horseback with the S.’s, in sketching 
likenesses of the boys and pretty Miss Mary, 
and occasional walks and conversations with 
new and agreeable acquaintances. 

On the morning of his trial of the effects of a 
Sitzbad, he left the hotel with a conviction that 
he thoroughly understood the sensations of the 
prince, described in the Arabian Night’s Enter- 
tainments, as having been transformed into 
marble from his waist downwards. At a neigh- 
boring quelle^ he found Count Galuzzi doubled 
up, and his teeth chattering with cold. 

“ Baon giorno^ caro^'* said he. “ Of all the 
devices invented by the ingenuity of man, that 
of the Sitzbad must be considered as the master- 
piece.” 

“ Priessnitz wishes his patients to exercise, 
and in order to incite them, he plunges the 


A LITERARY MARCHESA. 


269 


nether man into a tub of ice-cold water, from 
ten to twenty minutes, according to the physi- 
cal calibre of the individual. When Napoleon 
wished to capture a difficult position, he would 
plant cannon behind his soldiers, and threaten 
to fire on them if they did not go ahead. In 
the same way Priessnitz plants an enemy in the 
rear, which forces one onward. If you stop, 
you freeze, and you rush on in search of exer- 
cise and warmth. — Let us take a run.” 

Laughing heartily, Carroll joined him in a 
brisk trot up the hill. Ten minutes’ exercise 
restored the equilibrium of caloric, and slacken- 
ing their pace, they began to talk of Italy, art, 
and pictures. 

“ As you are an artist,” said the Count, “ I 
am curious to know which of the old masters 
ranks highest in your estimation.” 

“ The old masters,” replied Carroll, “ have 
such distinct qualities, that it is impossible 
almost to compare them. Michel Angelo, by 
his sublime creations, takes the imagination by 
storm. Raphael captivates it by the beauty of 
his forms, and the sweet truth of his delinea- 
tion of the affections. Titian seduces your eye 
from the contemplation of form or sentiment by 


270 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


the brilliancy and truth of his exquisite color; 
— his use of color reminds one of Shakspeare’s 
use of words. As a painter^ Titian must rank 
first in the estimation of every painter. If an 
artist tells me that he is indifferent to color, and 
devotes his attention to form, I should answer, 
that he had mistaken his vocation, and ought to 
have studied sculpture.” 

“ I understand the gist of your remarks,” said 
the Count. Many qualities and excellences 
are necessary to the formation of a painter ; in- 
vention, composition, poetry, drawing, and col- 
oring. Some are distinguished for one quality 
alone, others for another, and some by a fair 
or average proportion of all. Nothing human 
is perfect. But as a painter, skilful in the use 
of the distinguishing materials of his art, you 
consider Titian your master. Of all the pictures 
I have seen, the Ascension of the Virgin, by 
Murillo, impressed me most powerfully. When 
I was a young man, on a visit to Paris, I was 
anxious to visit the celebrated collection of 
Marshal Soult. Prof. Denon, the Egyptian 
traveller, (to whom I had letters,) offered to 
take me with him. As he had the privilege of 
entrance at all times, he proposed that we 


A LITERARY MARCHESA. 


2T1 


should wait until Friday, on which day the 
public is excluded, and we should have a better 
opportunity for examination. 

“ Accordingly, we went together, and I was 
standing lost in admiration of Murillo’s chef- 
W oeuvre^ when a shabby, little old man by my 
side, asked : ‘ AJ/i, bien, Monsieur^ qu'en pensez 
vous ? ’ I warmly and enthusiastically ex- 
pressed my pleasure and surprise, which, I said, 
was the greater, from my having supposed Mu- 
rillo only a painter of gypsies and beggars. 
‘ Ha,’ said the old man, ‘ This is Murillo, who 
is worth all your Titians and Tintorets.’ 

“ Supposing that he mistook me for some 
poor devil of a pittoruccio, I felt somewhat 
nettled, and replied, ‘ Whatever may be your 
estimation of these great masters, I only know 
that all there is of merit in France has been 
stolen from Italy.’ During this speech, which 
was delivered with some warmth, Denon kept 
nudging me, and pulling my sleeve in a peculiar 
manner. As soon as he had an opportunity, 
‘ Excuse me. Marshal Soult,’ said he, ‘ I ought 
to have introduced my young friend. Count 
Galuzzi, who is not aware to whom he is speak- 
ing.’ ‘ Under ordinary circumstances,’ said the 


272 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Marshal much excited, ‘ I should be most happy 
to make his acquaintance, but he has used lan- 
guage which appears to me un peu trop forV 
“ I saw in what a position I was placed, but 
remembering that a bon-mot had frequently 
saved the life of a Frenchman, when pressed on 
by a mob, to the cry of ^ Ala lanterne I ’ I said : — 
“ A personal rencontre between us. Marshal, 
could not add to your military fame. Should I 
fall, perhaps your conscience might reproach 
you for having taken the life of a young man, 
whose only offence was that he defended his 
country with indiscreet zeal.” 

“ The Marshal slapped me on the back, ‘ Vous 
avez raison^ said he. ‘ Oublions tout cela ! Come 
with me, and I will show you the gem of my 
gallery.’ 

“ Imagine my feelings on seeing an exquisite 
Leonardo da Vinci, which General L. stole 
from my father when he was quartered upon 
him in Genoa. L. had a painter in his train 
who made a copy, which he left in the frame 
in place of the original. The theft was not 
discovered until it was too late.” 

“ Of whom did you buy this picture,” 
asked I. 


A LITERARY MARCHES A. 


273 


“ Of General L. ; I gave him only ten thou- 
sand francs. It is richly worth a hundred thou- 
sand.” 

“ General L.,” I exclaimed, “ was a thief 
and a brigand. I told his nephew so, and he 
was obliged to pocket the insult. This picture. 
Marshal, belonged to my father, as can be 
proved by an original letter from Leonardo to 
one of my ancestors. The document is in 
our family archives. General L. was quar- 
tered on my father, and after his departure, a 
vile copy was found in the place of the origi- 
nal. The letter of Leonardo is at your ser- 
vice, as it proves the originality of your pic- 
ture. I was as good as my word, and for- 
warded to him the document.” 

“ What an interesting anecdote,” said Car- 
roll. “ After what had passed, I should have 
supposed the Marshal would have felt bound 
to restore it.” 

“ Or, at least, to have left it to me in his 
will, but he never did so. But I see the 
Marchesa Caraffa is waiting for me at the 
French fountain. Let me introduce you; she 
speaks English almost as well as you do Italian.” 

“ Marchesa, allow me to present Signor 
18 


274 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Carroll, an American gentleman, who having 
an artistic turn, paints for his amusement.” 

“ I have formed a high idea of the promise 
of American art,” said the Marchesa, ‘‘ from the 
great reputation of your sculptors in Italy, and 
also from the few specimens of your poetry 
which I have met with. Among the books 
I brought with me to while away my time 
were a few modern English and American 
poets. 

“ I was as much disappointed by the Eng- 
lish as pleased and surprised by the Ameri- 
can. The fashionable English poems, com- 
pared with the older poets, remind me of a 
modern building erected by the side of a 
long admired classical example. One is at 
first attracted by a novelty of style, which on 
examination and study is found to result from 
the violation or subversion of theories and 
practices established on sound and scientific 
principles. I presume it is to Wordsworth that 
we must ascribe the apostasy of the new school. 
He seems to have said to himself — ‘ Hitherto 
poets have generalized and omitted details. 
To me details have a peculiar attraction. I 
will create a new school. By an accumula- 


A LITERARY MARCHESA. 


275 


tion of detail I will sympathetically build up 
in the imagination of the reader, the images I 
wish to convey. Again, similes and meta- 
phors so much in vogue, filling the imagina- 
tion with two ideas at the same time, must 
weaken the images and dilute the thought. 
By the use of simple and direct epithets I 
will give strength and vigor to my language.’ 
Surely this is false doctrine. In the older 
English poets, such as Shakspeare, Milton, and 
Pope, I recognize these qualities, which in our 
Italian habits of criticism, are required in all 
branches of the fine arts. 

“ Your American poets seem to be disciples 
of the same school, and not rash innovators. 
Longfellow, for instance, is romantic in his 
legends, dramatic in his plots, musically har- 
monious in his verse, and graphic in his de- 
scriptions. I know of no poet who has so 
happily painted the peculiarity of scenery, 
manners, or customs — catching, as it were, the 
aroma of the soil of the country he describes, 
and conveying to the reader those subtile sen- 
sations experienced by a traveller in a foreign 
land. His images are full of beauty, his 
thought original, and his sentiment elevating, 


276 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


delicate, and refined. Of Lowell and Holmes 
I have read less. The former seems not to have 
faltered, hesitating between the comic and tragic 
muses, but to have wooed them alternately. 
He must be a man of keen susceptibility and 
wide sympathies, to have won favors from two 
such dissimilar mistresses. How full of ten- 
derness and noble feeling are his poems, and 
how irresistibly comic are his humorous pro- 
ductions! In Holmes, I admire the artistic 
finish by which he conceals the art. His pol- 
ished lines seem so many crystallizations, (if 
my metaphor savors not too much of the blue 
stocking,) of wit and wisdom, held in solution 
in equal proportions. I promise myself much 
pleasure in a further perusal of all three.” 

‘‘ Have you read Emerson,” asked Carroll. 

“ Very little. He challenges my admiration, 
but does not win my sympathies. He plays 
round the head., but touches not the hearV^ 

“ I never unravel one of his intricately in- 
volved stanzas, without seeing the writhings 
of a thought stretched and tortured on the 
rack of his ingenuity, until all life and spirit 
are extinct. His thoughts resemble a cocoon. 
When you have unwound its finely spun 


A LITERARY MARCHESA. 


277 


threads you are disappointed in finding an 
inanimate grub instead of a full fledged but- 
terfly, panting with the pleasures of a new ex- 
istence and the pride of conscious beauty.” 
The sparkling eyes of the Marchesa revealed 
to Carroll her consciousness of having achieved 
a brilliant and effective sentence. 

He has many admirers in England as well 
as in America,” said Carroll. “ He is a man 
of deep sympathies and has a noble and gen- 
erous heart. The strongest proof I can give 
you of his talent and merit, which you seem 
to underrate, is the fact that he is an intimate 
friend of the three poets you have mentioned, 
by whom he is equally admired and beloved.’-’ 

“ It may be that I lack the capacity to un- 
derstand him. In that case, it is not his fault 
but my misfortune.” 

Observing that the Count was listening with 
interest, Carroll continued : “ Your remarks 

upon poetry are very suggestive, and illustrate 
certain ideas which I have formed upon art in 
general. I agree with you, it is a great error 
to suppose that the presentation of two or 
more ideas at the same time, weakens the 
image or impression. On the contrary I feel 


278 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


that it is strengthened just as the intensity of 
a color is heightened by a juxtaposition with 
another of a different hue. Leonardo da Vinci 
tells us that every color is most beautiful 
when placed near another, resembling though 
varied from itself. I always consider the mul- 
tiplicity of ideas suggested by a work of art 
as a test or measure of its merit. 

“ Whenever we see, in painting or sculpture, 
a face faultless in symmetry and features, but 
insipid from a want of expression, we say it 
lacks poetry. It conveys but one idea — that of 
animal beauty. 

“ A good mechanical eye will enable a sculp- 
tor, by means of measurements, to put together 
a figure exquisitely formed and proportioned ; 
but, unless he conveys the expression of some 
act or passion which shall excite the imagina- 
tion, filling it with pleasurable ideas, he has 
failed to make a work of art. 

“ A stronger illustration of this idea is fur- 
nished by architecture : A building may be 
soundly, strongly, and scientifically constructed ; 
if, however, it suggests no idea of beauty or 
elegance or comfort — if it does not wear a 
strong expression of purpose, and does not 


A LITERARY MARCHES A. 


279 


please the eye by the harmony of its propor- 
tions, and an appearance of unity, varied by 
graceful and harmonious details, it is not 
architecture, but only masonry.” 

“ All this,” said the Count, “ may be very 
interesting to you, who understand these 
matters ; but I, who begin to be tortured with 
the hunger of an Ugolino, am tantalized with 
visions of hot coffee, rolls, and butter — Priessnitz 
interdicts the use of coffee ; but. Signor Carroll, 
try the cure a week — abstain from its use, and 
then breakfast upon coffee, and you shall enjoy 
sensations, compared with which, the pleasures 
of opium-eating are mere moonshine.” Giv- 
ing his arm to the Marchesa, the Count gayly 
saluted Carroll, and turned homeward to enjoy, 
as he said, “ the sweets of forbidden fruit.” 

“ Who is the Marchesa Caraffa ? ” asked 
Carroll, of Captain Bolera, who soon joined 
him in his walk. 

“ She is the chere amie of Count Galuzzi, for 
whose society she deserted her husband, some 
ten years ago, when the Count removed from 
Genoa to Florence. They do not live under 
the same roof, for that is not according to 
etiquette, but they are as inseparable as hus- 


280 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


band and wife. They always visit together, 
and the relation between them is perfectly 
understood. The young Marquis Caraffa, who 
is now making the cure here, bears such a 
strong resemblance to Galuzzi, that there can 
be no doubts as to his paternity.” 

“ Really ! ” said Carroll, who was amused at 
the plain-spoken bluffness of the soldier. “ May 
it not be mere scandal and suspicion?” 

“ You shall judge for yourself,” said the Cap- 
tain. “ The other morning, when it was raining 
very hard, I stood talking with the Count in 
the Wychilini Garden, when young Caraffa 
came up, looking very pale, and his teeth chat- 
tering, ‘ Have you sworn to be more eccentric 
than all the most eccentric Graefenbergers ? ’ 
asked Galuzzi, with an air of paternal author- 
ity. ‘ Yesterday, when the sun was shining 
without a cloud in the sky, you sported an 
umbrella ; to-day, when it rains cats and dogs, 
you are without one.’ ‘ Priessnitz told me to 
avoid the heat of the sun,’ replied the lad ; ‘ and 
advised me to expose myself to the influence 
of the weather as much as possible.’ ‘ T’ di 
ragione^ caro,^ said Galuzzi, affectionately, ‘ I 
consider it my duty to stir him up, now and 


A LITERARY MARCHES A. 


281 


then,’ said he, when CarafFa had gone, ‘ other- 
wise he would be too happy. He has just 
gone through a cure which would have killed a 
man, unless blessed with an iron constitution. 
He had a dangerous fever, but Priessnitz has 
got him through it.’ I remarked that he was a 
fine boy, ‘ And he seems very fond of you,’ I 
added. The Count smiled, and answered, 
‘ E un figlio saggio, die conosce il mo padre.^ 
Accenting the proverb, so that it would be 
translated ‘ He is a wise son, and knows his 
father.’ ” 

“ The information was as direct as wittily 
expressed,” said Carroll, who was interested at 
this first instance of cicisbeism which had ever 
fallen directly under his notice. It gave rise to 
many new and curious reflections as he walked 
homewards. 


282 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


CHAPTER IV. 

REGENERATION OF ITALY. 

One morning, as Carroll was whiling away 
the time, by looking over a volume of Goethe’s 
poems, a young Englishman, of the name of 
Singleton, who had taken a great fancy to our 
hero, dropped in, ostensibly to make a call. For 
a few moments, he seemed somewhat embar- 
rassed and absent-minded. 

Taking up the volume which lay upon the 
table, “Do you write poetry as well as read 
it ? ” asked he. 

“ I have spoiled a great deal of paper in the 
attempt, but have never succeeded in pleasing 
myself.” 

“ Ah ! modest ! I understand you do write 
poetry then. — I knew it. — Now, I have a favor 
to ask, and may as well out with it at once. 
You are so clever and obliging. 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


283 


“ You must know, that I am infernally 
smitten with Miss V., a young country-woman 
of mine, and I think — I think — ^that she likes 
me. I do not like to run the risk of a re- 
fusal, however, until I have more positive en- 
couragement than I have yet received. 

“ Now, it has occurred to me, that there is 
nothing very compromising in giving her a ser- 
enade, which she may receive in a way to 
encourage or discourage me, as she pleases. I 
can sing and play an accompaniment on the 
guitar very tolerably; but the devil of it is, I 
don’t know what to sing. Can’t you write me 
something very original, very touching and 
effective ? eh ? there’s a good fellow.” 

“ Why, here’s the very thing for you,” said 
Carroll, much amused. “ A superb serenade, 
by Goethe.” 

“ Confound it, man, I can’t sing German ; 
and if I could, all the inhabitants of this gos- 
siping place would hear me. What I want is 
some English verses, original, and not hack- 
neyed. She is too spirituelle to be taken by 
such trash.” 

‘‘ It is easily translated. Wait a moment — a 
moment — I must have the inspiration of a 


284 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


cigar.” Lighting one, and taking a pen, he 
hastily scribbled, and read aloud, the following 

TRANSLATION. 

“ On softest couch reclining, 

Listen while I implore ; 

To the sound of my lute’s repining, 

Sleep on ! what will’st thou more ? 

To the sound of my lute’s repining. 

An army of stars above, - 
Proclaim as they are shining. 

The eternal fire of Love. 

The eternal fire of Love, 

Has purged this burning breast 
Of every earthly feeling ; 

■ Sleep on ; thy dreams be blest. 

Ah ! every earthly feeling 
Is held by thee in scorn. 

While the cold my life is stealing. 

Thou sleep’st till break of morn. 

Though the cold my life is stealing. 

Thou dreamest, while I implore ; 

On softest couch reclining. 

Sleep on ! what will’st thou more ? ” 

“ Charming!” said Singleton, “that’s just the 
thing. Give it to me, and I am your friend for 
life. I shall unblushingly dress myself out in 
these borrowed feathers, and see what comes.” . 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


285 


Late in the evening, the penetrating sounds 
of a guitar, on the opposite side of the Platz, 
told Carroll that Singleton had commenced his 
amorous siege. 

On going to the window, he faintly discerned 
the outlines of a female form behind the blinds 
of a window opposite, under which the enam- 
ored cavalier was performing with great effect. 

When he had finished, the blinds were 
partially opened, and a muslin handkerchief 
dropped like a soft cloud of white into the 
hands of the kneeling musician. 

The following morning, Singleton came in 
high spirits, to inform his friend that he had 
just returned from Miss V.’s, to whom he had 
made a proposal, which was — accepted. Here 
he danced around the room with joy. 

“ It was a contemptible piece of imposition,” 
said he, laughing, “ to borrow your verses. I 
shall never tell her who wrote them, or she 
would admire you as much as I do. Good 
morning. Don’t peach ; ” and off he went in 
an ecstasy of excitement and content. 

A week elapsed without any communication 
from Vienna, in answer to Mr. S.’s applica- 
tion, in favor of the Marquis Amalfi. Carroll 


286 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


began to be doubtful of the chances of success, 
and asked his friend what he augured from the 
delay. 

“ I am not at all discouraged by the short 
time which has passed,” he answered. “Among 
other more important matters, my communi- 
cation would naturally be postponed to a con- 
venient opportunity. The chances of success 
depend entirely upon Prince Metternich’s de- 
cision as to the expediency of refusing or 
granting my request. He will be influenced by 
his interest alone. 

“ Although stern and unrelenting in his des- 
potic measures, when he deems it necessary, no 
man can make a more graceful display of clem- 
ency, when it will answer his ends better than 
severity. A very interesting instance was re- 
lated to me lately by an Italian nobleman. 
The Marquis Gina, a Lucchese noble, of large 
fortunes and great influence, when a young 
man, was implicated in the Carbonari move- 
ments of 1820-21, the object of which was the 
expulsion of the Austrians from Italy, and the 
establishment of an independent and free 
nation. The Marquis, who had taken a prom- 
inent part, was on a visit to Vienna, where he 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


287 


was admitted to the highest circles. He was 
not a little startled, one morning, on receiving 
a polite note from Metternich, requesting the 
favor of a call at ten o’clock the next day. It 
looked like a business affair — and he was anx- 
ious all day, and did not sleep during the next 
night. At the appointed hour he called, punc- 
tually, and was ushered into a small cabinet, 
where the minister was seated at a table covered 
with letters and papers. The Prince, politely 
saluting him, requested him to be seated. His 
manner was so courteous, that the Marquis was 
soon at his ease, when the Premier, addressing 
him in French, which he speaks slowly, but 
with great precision, ^Mon jeune ami^ said he, 
HI y a des choses qui — quoiquHgitees en secret — 
sont parfaitement connues' He then informed the 
Marquis that he had a perfect knowledge of the 
movements of the Carbonari. He explained 
the details of their plans, and read a list of the 
names of those who were the leaders of the 
affair — among which the Marquis had the 
pleasure of hearing his own. ‘ My object in 
sending for you is to caution you, as a friend, 
against proceeding further in this business, 
which can end only in the loss of your fortune 


288 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


and liberty.’ A cold perspiration broke out on 
the forehead of the Marquis. He saw the folly 
of denying the charge, and humbly replied that 
he was exceedingly grateful for his kind advice, 
and added that he would prove his gratitude by 
returning at once to his estates, and using all his 
influence to dissuade his associates from their 
perilous undertaking. ‘ Ne faites pas cela^ mon 
ami^ replied the Prince. ‘ Remain in Vienna, 
frequent our society, observe our institutions 
and the working of our laws — you will find 
that, if not perfect, they are established on a 
basis not easily shaken.’ This invitation from 
the Prince, under the circumstances, amounted 
to a command. The Marquis remained in 
Vienna, and went frequently into society, and 
his adventures ended by his marrying into the 
family of the Lichtensteins. He is now one of 
the most conservative supporters of the Metter- 
nich dynasty.” 

A post-boy, wearing tl^e Austrian livery, en- 
tered, and presenting to Mr. S. a large package, 
made a low bow, and retired. Mr. S. eagerly 
ran over the contents of a letter. At first he 
looked anxious and disappointed ; but his 
brow soon cleared up, and, with a look of ex- 


KEGENERATION OF ITALY. 


289 


treme pleasure, he handed Carroll the fol- 
lowing : — 

“ The undersigned has the honor of acknowl- 
edging the receipt of Mr. S.’s favor of the 20th 
inst. The memorial, or petition, referred to, has 
been returned to the signers, with leave to with- 
draw, it being impossible to grant their prayer 
on the grounds alleged by the petitioners. 

“ The undersigned, however, has great pleas- 
ure in complying with Mr. S.’s request, and 
incloses an order to that effect. The Marquis 
Amalfi has been sufficiently punished for his 
indiscretion. Wishing him to receive his par- 
don, as a favor granted to the American repre- 
sentative at the Court of Vienna, the under- 
signed has inclosed the order to Mr. S., instead 
of forwarding it, as an official order, to Count 
Ziechy, the governor of Venice. 

“ The undersigned takes this opportunity of 
renewing the assurance of his most distin- 
guished esteem. Metternich.” 

This order was countersigned by a number 
of names and stamps, so that it looked like 
a 'weW.-vised passport. It contained directions 
for the immediate release of the Marquis, and 
the quashing of all proceedings against him. 

19 


290 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ How can I express my gratitude ? ” said 
the delighted Carroll, grasping his friend’s 
hand. 

“ By forwarding the document at once to 
the princess. It is to you that she is indebted 
for my agency in the matter. I presume,” added 
he, with a significant smile, “ that you have no 
objections to establishing a strong claim on her 
gratitude.” 

“ I understand your innuendo,” said Carroll, 
slightly coloring ; “ but, I assure you, she is 
only a friend — one, however, for whom I have 
a high regard and esteem.” 

“ Is she very handsome ? ” asked his friend. 

“Judge for yourself,” said Carroll, drawing 
from his pocket a small miniature, which he 
had ordered to be made by Sasso, the court 
miniature painter at Florence, from one of the 
studies which he had himself painted in 'oil. 

“ By Jove ! ” said S., admiringly ; “ It is 
lucky that Metternich did not see this — he 
would have summoned her on to Vienna as 
a witness, and the Marquis Amalfi’s trial would 
never have ended.” 

Carroll inclosed the order, in a letter, to the 
princess, congratulating her on the happy result 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


291 


of her plans. He gave all the credit of his 
success to his friend S.’s happy agency, and 
suggested that a letter of thanks from the Mar- 
quis to Mr. S. would be an agreeable return to 
that gentleman for his kindness. 

He then informed her that he should return 
to Florence by the same route, stopping occa- 
sionally for some time, in order to examine and 
study, at leisure, objects of interest at Parma, 
Placentia, Milan, and Genoa. “ This will de- 
prive me of the pleasure of hearing from you 
for some time ; but I shall write frequently, and 
rest contented with a belief that you are now 
perfectly happy.” 

The next day was devoted to making calls, 
and taking leave of the many agreeable ac- 
quaintances which he had made during his 
short sojourn at Freywaldau. 

“ Before you go,” said the Marchesa Caraffa, 
“ you should call at the village goldsmith’s, and 
purchase what we call the Order of Graefenberg, 
like this ” — showing a set of miniature imple- 
ments of the water-cure, wrought in gold. 
“ Here is the Wanne^ or large tub, the 8itz-bad^ 
the straw bathing-slippers, and a drinking-cup. 
They are very prettily wrought, and suspended 


292 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


to a ring, which, attached to the watch-chain, 
forms a very pretty set of breloques. Graefen- 
bergers are a band of brothers. Who knows, 
said she, lowering her tone, ‘‘ but the time may 
come when it may be more desirable to be 
recognized as a Graefenberger than as a free- 
mason.” 

Carroll smiled, and promised to drop in at 
the smith’s, on his way to the Countess Cze- 
chenyi’s. 

At the Czechenyis’ he had the pleasure of 
meeting the Count, who had just arrived on 
a visit to his family. He was of the middle 
stature, of a dark complexion, and striking 
physiognomy. Carroll fancied himself looking 
at Daniel Webster through an inverted opera- 
glass, so strong was his resemblance to the 
celebrated American statesman. 

The Count was in fine health and spirits — a 
favorite horse of his own raising and training 
had won the prize at the last Pesth races. It 
was a small box composed of panels of buhl 
inserted in a frame of richly-chased gold, and 
the lid was surmounted by the figure of a horse 
at full speed, executed in the same metal, and 
finished with great grace and spirit. The 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


293 


Countess exhibited it with pride as a gift from 
her husband — presented to her for a work-box. 

As the elegant and vivacious Hungarian sat 
conversing with a large and heavy Austrian, 
Carroll was reminded of the difference between 
the game fowl and the clumsy lord of the dung- 
hill. He thought, also, that his elegant frank- 
ness and easy address resembled those of the 
Southern gentlemen of his own country, as con- 
trasted with the colder manners of the North. 

He took leave of the S.’s with deep regret. 
He had been so cordially received, and felt so 
much at home in this charming family, that his 
eye moistened as he shook hands, and departed. 

Six weeks spent both pleasantly and profit- 
ably, by Carroll, in easy journeys and short 
visits to each of the principal cities between 
Vienna and Genoa, will occupy the imagination 
of the reader only a few seconds. On the eve 
of his departure from the last-mentioned city, 
as he was walking along the Strada Balbi, he 
was accosted by Count Galuzzi and the Mar- 
ch esa Caraffa. They had both made a brilliant 
cure, and intended, in the course of ten days, to 
leave Genoa for Florence. Carroll saw, with 
surprise, that the Marchesa, who, at Graefen- 


294 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


berg, seemed somewhat passSe^ now appeared 
with cheeks glowing with the health and beauty 
of youth ; and that the gallantries of the Count 
savored rather of the empressement of a suitor, 
than the slip-shod ease of an accepted lover. 
He remarked to the Count, “ One would sup- 
pose that the Marchesa had resorted to the baths 
of Medea instead of those of Priessnitz. She 
has left ten years behind her, at Graefenberg.” 

The Marchesa’s grateful smile, on receipt 
of this compliment, led Carroll to believe that 
the restoration of her beauty was prized by her, 
no less than that of her health. 

“ How do you support the loss of the cure ? ” 
asked he. “I am told that one misses it very 
much, at first.” 

“ My Italian blood,” replied the Count “ is 
getting accustomed to its native element. At 
first I thought I was ruined for life. On resum- 
ing my usual clothing, I found its weight insup- 
portable. My Parisian hat pinched my brow 
like the iron helmet of a knight of the sixteenth 
century. In visiting the gardens of Schbnbrunn, 
I felt as if the rays of a June sun were reflected 
from the burning sands of an Arabian desert. 
In the zoological department, I saw a most 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


295 


touching picture of my sufferings. In the 
centre of a small pond stood a little green 
island, on which reposed a huge white polar 
bear. He was panting, with his tongue hang- 
ing out of his open mouth. His head and paws 
were resting on a large cake of crystal ice, with 
which he is daily regaled as a souvenir of his 
own dear native element. He seemed to miss 
those cooling zephyrs which whistle round the 
north pole, at a temperature of one hundred 
degrees below zero. He was evidently in an 
Inferno^ expiating, God knows what offence — 
perhaps nothing worse than having feasted on 
the flesh of some Arctic explorer on Friday, 
instead of confining himself to fish, as all good 
Catholic bears should. 

“ So, you leave for Florence, to-morrow,” he 
continued. “At Florence you will find cose nuove 
— a new order of things. The Grand Duke has 
followed suit after Pio Nono — he has given his 
subjects a constitution, a representative chamber, 
and the liberty of the press. It would really seem 
that the millennium is fast approaching. If noth- 
ing occurs to check the progress of the times, I 
see a very fair prospect of rising to the dignified 
position of earning my own bread, instead of 


296 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


living, like a parasite, on the labors of my ances- 
tors. Thanks to a good constitution, and a little 
Graefenberg training, I can support myself by 
my hands ; for I am sure that my old-fashioned 
brains would not be up to the exigencies of the 
day.” 

GaluzzPs conversation had, at all times, a 
vein of humorous exaggeration, and Carroll, 
considering this last remark as one of those 
jeux esprit, under cover of which a wit usually 
prefers to beat a retreat, laughed, and shaking 
their hands, bid his friends good-bye. He was 
little aware of the serious apprehensions enter- 
tained at that moment, by many gentlemen in 
Count Galuzzi’s position, all over Italy. He had 
no sooner entered Tuscany, however, than he 
was struck by the appearances of the cose 
nuove, alluded to by the Count, and the changes 
which had taken place during his absence of 
less than three months. 

With difficulty he recognized the old inns and 
caffes, from whose signs the names of patron 
saints had been erased for the substitution of 
more popular and national titles. The Caffe al 
insegna di S, Antonio, was now the Caffe d' Italia 
regenerata. Liberty-trees, surmounted by large 


REGENERATION OP ITALY. 


29T 


tri-color flags, were found erected in every pub- 
lic square. If he met a countryman driving a 
yoke of oxen, their horns were invariably dec- 
orated with small tri-color flags, and the driver 
and Carroll’s postilion would exchange cries of 
‘‘ Viva V Italia ! ” 

At Florence, the changes were still more 
striking. The citizens, formerly noted for their 
quiet and peaceful ways, were transformed 
into a set of restless, hot-headed politicians. 
Four daily newspapers had taken the place 
of the unpretending “ Gazzetta di Firenze^'^ and 
vied with each other in inflaming the minds 
of their readers, and discussing projects for the 
regeneration of Italy. A Guardia Nazionale, 
which had been organized, comprising nearly all 
who were capable of bearing arms, paraded the 
streets by day ; and at night, they were suc- 
ceeded by torch-light processions, formed of 
mechanics, apprentices, and the dregs of the 
people, who marched to the chorus of Pio 
Nono, a stirring national anthem. They would 
occasionally halt to cheer some citizen or digni- 
tary supposed to be favorable to the popular 
cause, or groan and hiss those who were op- 
posed to it. 


298 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Politicians were divided into two ranks — the 
Liberals and Tories, or Coding so called from 
the codino^ or queue^ which is supposed to be 
typical of the old-fashioned veteran, who natur- 
ally is an enemy to all innovation. 

Stentorello, who knew well how to adapt him- 
self to the times, made a most popular hit at 
this party. 

A part of his costume had always been a red 
wig, sleekly combed backward, and bound to- 
gether in a long codino, which hung down upon 
his shoulders in a most comical manner. Night 
after night he appeared on the stage, with a 
hatchet in one hand, and a block of wood in 
the other. Coming up to the foot-lights, he 
gave the audience a significant grin, and re- 
marked, “ AncW io mi voglio riformareP “ It 
is high time for me to reform.” He would then 
take off his wig, and with one stroke of the 
hatchet, cut off the queue close to the head. 
This ingenious little device never failed to 
bring down the house. 

The impulsive and excitable intellect of the 
Italians did not amuse itself long with the 
child’s play which was intended to divert them. 
There soon arose an universal cry for the expul- 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


299 


sion of the Austrian from Italy, as the only 
means of regeneration. Carlo Alberto had not 
only declared war against Austria, but had 
taken the field ; public attention was entirely 
engrossed by rumors of battles, victories, or 
successful retreats. The caffes were swarming 
with eager inquirers for the latest news. On 
the arrival of a fresh paper, one of the company, 
mounting a stool, would read aloud welcome 
tidings from the seat of war, which were re- 
ceived with loud applause and deafening cheers 
by the excited auditors. 

Taking an early morning’s walk, Carroll ob- 
served a large crowd eagerly perusing the con- 
tents of a royal edict posted upon a wall. 
Elbowing his way among them, he saw with 
amazement, that it announced the declaration 
of a war between Tuscany and Austria, signed 
by Leopoldo II., himself an Austrian prince, 
and protected on his throne by Austrian bay- 
onets. 

He began by stating that the time had now 
arrived, when it became the duty of all true 
Italians to aid in expelling their common enemy 
from Italy. He therefore invited those of his 
loving subjects, who were willing to join in the 


300 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


enterprise, to repair to the Fortezza a basso^ on 
the following Wednesday, there to receive their 
arms, ammunition, ranks, and grades. He 
ended by assuring his subjects that, in whatever 
conflicts they might be called upon to engage, 
their prince would be at their head, exposed to 
danger in common with them. 

“ What is the meaning of this ? ” asked Car- 
roll of Otway, who was among the crowd. 

Otway shook his head. “ I cannot fathom it. 
There lies underneath some mystery or policy 
deeper than Machiavelli ever planned or con- 
ceived. I put no faith in princes.” 

It is not our purpose to trace the history or 
events of this war, excepting so far as they 
affected the movements and interests of our hero, 
whose adventures we have undertaken to relate. 
Subsequent history has shown, that Tuscany, 
Rome, and Naples, combined with Austria to 
carry on the semblance of a war, in order to get 
rid of the turbulent spirits who had now got 
the upper hand. In each of these three States, 
large armies of volunteers were formed with the 
sanction of those treacherous rulers. Five thou- 
sand young men, (the flower of Tuscany,) left 
the fortress with high hopes and generous 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


301 


hearts. They had not marched twenty miles, 
when they found that no provisions had been 
furnished by a well-regulated commissariat, and 
they were in danger of starving. Hundreds fell 
back in disgust and rage. And the few Spar- 
tans who held on their way to the battle-field, 
were slaughtered like sheep. Of the five thou- 
sand, whom Carroll saw march from Florence, 
amid the cheers of the citizens, a few hundred 
only returned, worn down, ragged, and maimed 
in the thankless and useless service. The fate 
of the Roman and Neapolitan volunteers was 
probably the same. Pillage and rapine became 
necessary to support their existence, and the 
country was throwm into a state of consternation 
and terror. 

In less than a year’s time, Carroll had seen 
the declaration of a war against Austria, the 
flight of the Grand Duke from his dominions, 
the establishment of a Republic under Guer- 
razzi, and his expulsion and imprisonment by 
the adherents of the Grand Duke, the defeat 
and exile of Carlo Alberto, the recapture by 
Radetzky, of every post of importance in Italy, 
and lastly, the triumphal entry of Radetzky into 
Florence at the head of twenty thousand men ; 


302 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


who reviewed his troops at the Cascine one day, 
and disarmed the citizens the next. 

During the passage of the events which we 
have condensed, in order to give the reader 
a connected and succinct idea of them, Car- 
roll met with some adventures which are too 
characteristic of the times and the country, to 
be omitted. 

A dav or two previous to the declaration of 
war against Austria, he was taking a morning 
walk, when a young birrichino^ pointing to the 
black ribbon which served as a band to his 
Leghorn straw hat, impertinently called out, 
“ Abhasso quel nastro nero I ” “ Off with that 

black ribbon.” He was strongly inclined to ad- 
minister to the young blackguard’s shoulders, a 
smart blow with his rattan, but thought it pru- 
dent to take no notice of him, and passed on. 

“ Abbasso quel nastro nero ! ” shouted a 
pavior, who was working near by, and a large 
gang of fellow-workmen took up the cry with 
angry clamor and fierce gesticulations. 

Carroll was for a moment lost in amazement 
at the unaccountable irritation caused by a 
simple hat-band, which he had worn daily and 
publicly for a couple of months. Presently it 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


303 


occurred to him that black and yellow were the 
Austrian colors ; he remembered that in Austria 
all custom-houses, depots^ toll-gates, &c. were 
distinguished as government property, by poles 
or bars decorated with these two colors. On 
the evening previously, a mob had torn down 
the arms of the Austrian minister, and from the 
boards on which they were painted, a bonfire 
had been kindled on the Piazza Gran Duca. 
It was the combination of black and yellow 
against which the excited workmen were pro- 
testing. Deeming “ discretion the better part 
of valor,” Carroll, quietly taking off the ribbon, 
threw it to the breeze, which wafted it away, 
amid loud cheers from the appeased patriots. 
It was well that he did so, for, on the same 
day, a young Englishman, who made some 
resistance to the like demand, was assaulted, 
mauled, and maltreated severely. 

Seated one evening at Doney’s Caffd, (now 
Caffe del Popolo,) he observed a shabby-looking 
man examining with great apparent interest the 
order of Graefenberg, which he wore as a bre~ 
loque on his watch-guard. 

Sie Sind ein Graefenberger^ ich glaube,^ said 
the stranger, in German, “ You are a Graefen- 


304 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


berger, I believe ; might I say a word or two 
with you in private ? ” 

Carroll rose and followed him into a small 
room adjoining. Speaking in Italian, “ Have 
you forgotten Captain Bolera ? ” asked he. 

Carroll found at first great difficulty in trac- 
ing irn the pale and emaciated countenance be- 
fore him, the sleek and handsome, though some- 
what sensual features of Bolera. 

“ I have left the Austrian service,” said he, 
“ to join my countrymen in the good work now 
going on. I came to Florence in hopes of ob- 
taining rank in the Republican army. I have 
offered my services to Guerrazzi, but as yet I 
have received no answer. In the mean time I 
am literally starving. I have lived on bread 
and wine only for a week. My last crazia was 
spent this morning, since which time I have 
tasted no food. 

Shocked at a case of such utter destitution, 
Carroll immediately placed in his hand five 
Napoleons, and giving him his card, requested 
him to call on him the next day, when he would 
gladly give hirp a check for such sums as would 
be required to make him comfortable and renew 
his toilette. 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


305 


“ That blessed order of Graefenberg has saved 
my life,” said the grateful Captain. “ I was 
meditating suicide when it caught my eye, and 
attracted my attention to you, whom I had not 
at first recognized.” 

In the course of a few days, Carroll had the 
pleasure of seeing him restored to his good 
looks, and elegantly and fashionably attired. 

Shortly afterwards, Bolera called to inform 
him that he had received the rank and pay of a 
colonel in the cavalry service, with the use of 
two horses and a man-servant. He was loud 
and violent in his denunciations of the indo- 
lence and inefficiency of his countrymen, who 
were so backward in pushing the war against 
Austria with vigor. “ What they need to wake 
them up,” said he, “ is a Russian master over 
them. A few doses of the knout alone could 
cure them of their apathy.” 

On the day of Guerrazzi’s downfall, and the 
restoration of the Grand Duke’s authority, the 
regiment, commanded by Bolera, was kept all 
day locked up manoeuvring in the Caserma, 
totally ignorant of the deadly conflict which 
was going on in the streets. On the entrance 
of the Austrians into Florence, Carroll, who not 


20 


306 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


having seen the Captain for several days, pre- 
sumed that he ha,d absconded, was surprised to 
meet him in a citizen’s dress, apparently quite 
at his ease, and hand and glove with his former 
brother officers. “ Was machen Sie hier.^ Herr 
Capitan? ” “ What are you doing here ? ” asked 
one of them of Bolera. “ I am serving the 
Kaiser,” replied he, in a low, significant tone. 
As he passed out of the Caffe, the Archduke 
Charles was standing conversing with a group 
of generals and officers of high rank, in front of 
the door-way, Bolera raised his hat, and the 
Duke touched the visor of his cap with formal 
military precision. 

Carroll had heard Bolera spoken of as a 
spy in the Austrian service, and until now had 
always indignantly rejected the idea. He was 
thoroughly convinced of the truth of the charge 
however, when on calling a few days afterwards, 
to repay the money Carroll had advanced, and 
to take leave of him ; — 

“ Whither do you go ? ” asked he. “ To 
Vienna, to resume my rank in the Austrian 
service.” 

“ How is that possible ? Surely the part you 
have taken against Austria must expose you to 
great danger there.” 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


307 


“ No,” said Bolera, with a confused manner. 
“ My father-in-law, who is a long-headed man, 
has arranged matters, so that I have received 
leave to return, with a promotion to the rank 
and pay of a major. A soldier must gain his 
bread where he can.” 

Carroll, by the coolness of his adieu, endea- 
vored to show the rascal the low estimation in 
which he held him. 

During the whole of the revolution Carroll 
had corresponded regularly with the princess, 
keeping her informed of what was passing 
around him. He quieted her fears for his 
safety by assuring her that, being a foreigner, 
he was subjected to neither danger, annoyance, 
nor inconvenience. He watched events with 
intense interest, but kept entirely free from all 
participation. 

On reading an extract from the foreign cor- 
respondent of one of the English papers in 
“ Galignani,” one morning, he was surprised to 
see a minute account of the death of Prince 
Zerlinski as having taken place a month pre- 
viously. He had fallen by the hand of a Rus- 
sian General, in a duel, which arose from a 
quarrel at cards; — the account ended by stat- 


808 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


ing “ that the Prince had left a widow, the ac- 
complished and amiable Princess Sofia, who 
resides at Venice, and is celebrated as the 
most beautiful woman of the age.” 

To any one of merely ordinary sensibilities, 
there is something shocking in the untimely 
end of a fellow-creature, however little claim 
he may have to our affections or sympathies. 

When this natural emotion had subsided, 
Carroll rejoiced to think that a special Provi- 
dence had interposed to release the princess from 
a painful and loathsome bondage. At this 
moment she might be surrounded by a crowd 
of flattering admirers ; was it not possible that 
among them some favored one might be sup- 
planting him in his absence? On the con- 
trary, although she had not alluded to the 
event of her husband’s death, it was evident 
to Carroll, on the reperusal of her last three 
or four letters, that she unconsciously allowed 
herself to address him with expressions of 
greater tenderness and affection, than had been 
her wont previously, during their friendly cor- 
respondence. He naturally attributed her si- 
lence on the eventful subject, to modesty and 
delicacy, which instinctively shrank from inform- 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


309 


ing him of an event which removed the only- 
obstacle to the union he had so earnestly wished 
for. 

We trust that the reader will not be sur- 
prised or shocked, when we inform him that 
in the course of the week he wrote to the 
princess, saying that the time had arrived 
when he felt at liberty to renew the declara- 
tion of his passion, and to make a formal 
offer of his hand. He made no direct allusion 
to the death of the prince, further than was 
implied by the general tenor of his language. 

By return post he received the following an- 
swer : — 

^’‘Carissimo mio . — I will not attempt to dis- 
guise the unspeakable joy and content with 
which your letter has filled me. I have never 
made a secret of my love for you. And the 
greatest pleasure of my life has been experi- 
enced in the conviction that I was equally be- 
loved by you. Your most guarded looks and 
language failed to conceal that you were ar- 
dently and passionately devoted to me ; but 
the offer of your hand has crowned my happi- 
ness, by proving that I have gained your confi- 
dence and esteem. I accept the offer, freely and 


310 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


frankly ; — under your protection and guidance, 
I will endeavor to acquire a portion of those 
virtues and accomplishments which your too 
flattering pen already ascribes to me. How I 
long to see you and talk over plans for the 
happy future. I must deny myself this pleas- 
ure for a short time, however, and trust that 
it may be very short. Important business 
calls me to Vienna immediately. Will you 
favor me with a letter of introduction to the 
American Minister, to whom I would express 
my gratitude for his kind services, which 
have made my friends the Amalfis perfectly 
happy ? 

“ I shall write daily as soon as I reach Vi- 
enna. This is a poor return for your charm- 
ing and eloquent letter, which I have read 
and re-read till I have committed it to heart 
— but I am interrupted, and must hasten to 
give you the earliest assurance of the hap- 
piness and undying love of Sofia.” 

Carroll answered the letter, inclosing one 
to Mr. S. informing him of the relation in 
which he stood to the lady, and requesting 
the kind attentions of himself and his amia- 
ble wife, towards her. He reminded the 


REGENERATION OF ITALY. 


311 


princess of her promise to write daily, and 
said that, although he should wait impatiently, 
he would try to beguile the time by dreams 
of future happiness. 


312 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


CHAPTER V. 

VIENNA REVISITED. 

In the course of a fortnight, according to 
Carroll’s calculations, he had reason to expect 
a letter from the princess, even supposing that 
she should have postponed writing a day or 
two after her arrival. Three weeks passed and 
brought him no news. The princess had prom- 
ised to Avrite daily, and he began to be alarmed 
lest serious indisposition, or some unforeseen 
accident, had prevented her. He felt confident 
that if she had presented his letter to Mr. S. 
he would certainly have sent an answer, and 
his congratulations. After harassing his mind 
with conjectures and painful images, he re- 
solved to follow her until he should overtake 
her at some place on the road, for he was con- 
vinced that she could not have reached Vienna. 

The American Minister at the Court of Turin 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


313 


happening to be in Florence at the time, 
he kindly offered to send to Mr. S. a few 
newspapers, sealed in an envelope, and fur- 
nished him with a passport, in which he was 
put down as Bearer of Dispatches — which title, 
he said, might facilitate his journey very much. 

Carroll found no difficulty in tracing the pro- 
gress of the princess’s journey, which seemed to 
have been made with great rapidity. All went 
on smoothly until he arrived at Mon Selice, a 
small garrison town on the Lombard frontier. 
On applying to the police for a visS to his pass- 
port he was referred to the Austrian military 
commander, whose visS was also required. Pre- 
senting himself at the Bureau to which he had 
been directed, he handed his passport, bound 
in the form of a pocket-book, to an officer 
who sat writing at a table. He was a stout, 
plethoric and irritable looking young man, who 
seemed annoyed by the interruption. 

“ Was ist das? Ein Wanderbuch? Is that 
a travelling apprentice’s wander-book ? ” asked 
he, petulantly tossing it upon the table. 

Carroll surveyed him coolly for a moment, 
and then said — “ I was directed to exhibit my 
passport to you. If you will do your duty, 


314 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


you will find that I am no travelling appren- 
tice.” 

The officer colored, and on seeing the magic 
words porteur de depeches^ rose and taking off 
his cap asked a thousand pardons. He made 
evident haste to give the requisite visS.^ and 
respectfully handed the passport to Carroll, who 
received it as he would a glass of water from 
a servant, and turning on his heel, left the 
office. 

As it wanted a few minutes to the time 
when a dinner ordered at a neighboring inn, 
was to be ready, he strolled up the hill leading 
to an old dismantled castle on the summit, 
from which a fine view of the whole plain of 
Lombardy is visible. Coming to an open 
iron gate at the foot of a flight of stone steps, 
he asked of the sentinels stationed there, 
whether it was allowable for him to pass. 
They replied “that they did not know.” 
“ In that case, since it is not forbidden, 
with your leave I will pass.” They made no 
objection, and mounting the steps he was 
soon upon the top of the ruined walls of the 
old castle, enjoying one of the finest prospects 
he had ever seen. 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


315 


On descending the hill he was met by a 
young sergeant at the head of a file of sol- 
diers, who politely requested him to accom- 
pany him to the office again. The Major 
wished to see him. As Carroll stepped for- 
ward, the soldiers formed a line on each side 
of him, making him aware that he was a 
prisoner. 

“ What business had you, sir, on yonder 
citadel ? ” asked the Majbr in a loud and surly 
tone. 

Preferring to speak in Italian, Carroll asked 
him if he understood that language, and was 
answered by the monosyllable, “/a.” 

Carroll then explained, that having a few 
spare minutes, he had been led by curiosity 
to examine the old ruin, and to enjoy the 
landscape view which it afforded. 

“ Your love of landscape, sir, will, I fear, 
cost you dear. It has led you to intrude your- 
self on forbidden ground.” 

“ In that case,” replied Carroll, it was surely 
the duty of your sentinels to have told me so 
— for I asked the question in direct terms.” 

“ My sentinels, sir, know their duty too well 
to gossip with meddling strangers. You speak 


316 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


Italian in a manner which convinces me that 
it is your mother-tongue. A little while ago, 
sir, you very impertinently bid me attend to my 
duty, I shall do it now by arresting you as an 
Italian spy and emissary.” 

“ But my passport proves ” 

“ A fig for your passport,” interrupted the 
excited Major, snapping his fingers. 

“ Very well, sir,” said Carroll, seating him- 
self calmly in the ch^ir from which the Major 
had just risen. “ You know best whether the 
detention of a diplomatic employ S is likely to 
meet with the approval of your superior officers. 
I give you fair warning, that if you detain 
me, you do it at no small peril.” 

This remark brought the pig-headed fellow 
to his senses. After a moment’s pause. 
“ All I can do,” said he, ‘‘ is to turn you 
over to the Colonel. Sergeant! take a file 
of ten soldiers, and escort this man to the 
Colonel’s quarters. Tell him what you have 
seen and know, let him decide, I wash my 
hands of it.” 

On their way to the Colonel’s, the Sergeant 
(who seemed an intelligent and civil young 
fellow) bid his prisoner to be under no ap- 


VIENNA KE VISITED. 


317 


prehensions. “ I suppose that he would never 
have thought of arresting you, if you had 
not justly rebuked the insolence of his manners 
to a stranger and a gentleman.” 

“ May I depend upon you to express the 
same opinion to the Colonel ? ” 

“ I shall state the facts, without any com- 
ments, of course. The Colonel is a gentle- 
man and will draw his own conclusions.” 

Entering a large ante-room of the Colonel’s 
apartment, the Sergeant placed a chair for 
Carroll, drew up his men before the door, and 
then entered a small cabinet, adjoining. After 
an absence of ten minutes, he returned and said, 
“ The Colonel would be glad to speak with 
you.” 

“ My dear sir,” said the officer, with an 
intelligent and benevolent smile, “ There is but 
one word to say. The whole thing has been 
a mistake. I regret the inconvenience and 
annoyance to which you have been subjected, 
but when you reflect on the number of Italian 
propagandists and emissaries who are now fo- 
menting conspiracies, and warring secretly 
against our institutions, I trust you will see 
the necessity of extreme watchfulness. The 


318 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


only apology which I shall offer for the Major’s 
harsh procedure and language is that he is better 
fitted for the rough services of a soldier than 
the graceful duties of a civilian. I shall endea- 
vor to substitute a fitter person in his place.” 

Carroll expressed his thanks for his polite- 
ness, and had an interesting conversation on the 
subject of the present state of affairs. He 
learned with surprise and concern, that a revolu- 
tion had broken out simultaneously in most of 
the German States. The fidelity of the army 
alone had preserved Austria from a state 
of total anarchy. “ For three weeks,” said the 
Colonel, “ the mails have been interrupted, and 
we have no news but what we get through 
military messengers.” 

This information relieved Carroll of a load of 
anxiety, accounting so satisfactorily for the 
hitherto unaccountable silence of the princess. 
The Colonel handed him his passport, and ac- 
companied him to the door of the ante-room, 
where he politely wished him a pleasant 
journey. 

Carroll posted on his way, until he arrived at 
Gratz, from which city a railroad runs directly 
to Vienna. On inquiry, he found that the prin- 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


319 


cess had taken her place in the cars for Vienna. 
His mind was now at ease, and he dwelt with 
pleasure on the idea, that every hour was bring- 
ing him nearer and nearer to the presence of 
his beloved idol. At the distance of about 
forty miles from Vienna, according to the rate 
of speed he was now travelling, he fondly 
counted upon being able, within three hours, to 
surprise the princess by his unexpected appear- 
ance, when the cars came to a sudden halt, and 
he saw that they were between two companies 
of soldiers, whose glittering bayonets formed a 
serried wall on both sides. A sergeant entered 
the cars, and requesting the ladies to remain 
seated, ordered the gentlemen to dismount and 
exhibit their passports to the colonel of the regi- 
ment. Following in the wake of the others, 
Carroll observed that as each one dismounted, 
he was flanked by a soldier on each side. Thus 
guarded, they were marched up to the com- 
manding officer, whose manners were exceed- 
ingly courteous and elegant. Taking the pass- 
ports in order as they were presented, he ob- 
served to one that he could proceed no further 
— to another, that he would be allowed to con- 
tinue on his journey to the next stopping-place, 


320 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


and vised his passport accordingly. Some 
were ordered to return to their homes, unless 
they could show urgent business. Carroll was 
speculating upon the chances of his being 
allowed to proceed to Vienna, when in the per- 
son of the officer who performed the duties of 
secretary, he recognized Rittmeister Reyman, 
whose acquaintance he had made at Graefenberg. 

The Rittmeister shook him by the hand, and 
introduced him to his colonel as a friend. 

The colonel, after examining the passport, 
raised his cap, respectfully, and said, “ It will be 
impossible, Mein Herr^ for you to enter Vienna 
at present.” Carroll started. “ The city is in the 
hands of the rebels, and Prince Windischgratz, 
who has besieged it, is at present engaged in 
beating back the Hungarians, who are attempt- 
ing to join the insurgents. He has already 
routed a large force, and doubtless in the course 
of two or three days, will effect a complete vic- 
tory. When the Hungarian army shall be 
dispersed, the city will undoubtedly capitulate 
without any struggle or bloodshed. This train 
will go no further than Baden, an agreeable 
watering-place, at the distance of twenty miles 
from Vienna. You will there find good lodgings. 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


321 


and most of your Vienna friends. I will viser 
your passport for Baden. The diplomatic corps 
is in safety at Pensing, but all access to them at 
present is impossible.” 

Carroll bowed his acknowledgments, and re- 
turned to his seat in the cars. 

The bathing season having passed, the large 
number of empty lodging-houses at Baden, 
offered a ready asylum to the wealthy Viennese, 
who were obliged to fly their homes. It was 
filled to overflowing, so much so that lodgings 
were with difficulty obtained. A stranger, un- 
acquainted with the facts, observing the crowds 
of gay and fashionable idlers thronging the 
streets, public squares, and cafSs^ would never 
have imagined how many hearts were throbbing 
with anxiety for their fortunes or for the safety 
of friends and relatives from whom they were 
separated. 

Telegraphic dispatches arrived frequently from 
the seat of war, and were listened to with in- 
tense curiosity and interest as they were read 
aloud by some Stentor selected for the occasion. 
One came, to the effect, that the Hungarians 
were repulsed with frightful losses, and loud 
and prolonged cheers followed the announce- 
21 


322 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


ment. The next was to the effect, that the 
rebels were making a most obstinate resistance, 
and that Windischgratz was now fiercely bom- 
barding the city. Here many a sigh was heard, 
and many a cheek grew pale. The heart of 
our anxious lover beat violently for a moment, 
but was soon quieted by the reflection, that as 
the diplomatic corps had taken refuge at Pen- 
sing, there could be no doubt that the princess 
made one of the S. family. 

Meeting on the public promenade, a young 
Viennese painter, who had won a golden harvest 
at Freywaldau in the spring, by his spirited 
sketches of the cure-guests, Carroll accosted 
him, and fell into an agreeable and amusing 
conversation. Speaking of the state of affairs 
at Vienna, the painter remarked, that his young 
and pretty wife was there, and asked if she 
were not exposed to great danger ? For a 
moment, Carroll felt himself in the dilemma of 
a courtier who was requested by the Prince of 
Wales to stand up with him to decide which 
was the tallest. When it was finally decreed 
that the prince had the advantage of half an 
inch in height, “ What the devil made you keep 
bobbing up and down so strangely?” asked 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


323 


some one, when his royal highness was out of 
hearing. 

“ Why, the fact was, that I for a long time 
didn’t know whether he wanted to be taller or 
shorter than I.” 

Now, in the present instance, Carroll ob- 
served that the young husband seemed in very 
fine spirits, and had just left a gay group of 
young belles, to whom he had made himself 
evidently very agreeable. He therefore an- 
swered, that he should think her situation one 
of imminent danger ; and this seemed perfectly 
satisfactory, for his spirits appeared rather to in- 
crease than abate during the rest of the walk. 

After a week of protracted anxiety and pain- 
ful suspense, at last came a welcome official 
dispatch from Prince Windischgratz, stating that 
the rebels had surrendered, that he had entered 
the city, and that the foreign ministers were re- 
turning to their embassies. The citizens were 
invited to repair to their homes, and assist in 
the preservation of law and order. 

Carroll gladly accepted an invitation from 
an English gentleman, whose acquaintance he 
had lately made, to take a coach together, on 
their way to Vienna. Mr. Marshall, who had 


324 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


married an heiress of Vienna, had long been a 
resident in that city, and gave Carroll much 
useful and interesting information relating to 
the late revolution. 

As they approached the city, there remained 
many marks of the deadly conflict which had 
lately taken place. The roads, which had been 
lined on each side by large shade-trees, had 
been barricaded by cutting down every one of 
those graceful ornaments, so that, by falling 
across the road, they made the passage of artil- 
lery or large bodies of men impossible. An 
efficient corps of sappers and miners had cleared 
away this obstruction, and a score of piles of 
wood, on either side, was all that remained of 
the growth of a half century. 

In the suburbs, the ravages of war were still 
more apparent. The pavings of the streets 
had been torn up for the erection of barricades, 
and the sides of the houses showed that they 
had been raked by the fire of a powerful artil- 
lery — some of them had been burned, and were 
a heap of smouldering ruins. A large and im- 
posing cemetery, which Carroll remembered to 
have seen on a previous occasion, presented a 
sad contrast to its former condition. It was on 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


325 


a fete-day, which occurred just as he last left 
Vienna, that, walking by, he was struck by the 
festal character of the scene. It was a day de- 
voted to the memory of the dead — all the graves 
and monuments were decorated with elegant 
candelabra, lamps, and cloth hangings, before 
which votive offerings, vases of flowers, garlands, 
and bouquets were placed. Crowds of weU- 
dressed men, women, and children were walking 
about — among them were seen a few aged per- 
sons standing with forms bowed down, as if 
listening to the voice of Mother Earth, calling 
upon them to come and repose in her bosom, 
while the merry voices of children gave fresh- 
ness and cheerfulness to the scene. The ceme- 
tery had the air of a gay saloon, in which the 
living were holding a pleasant communion with 
the dead. 

It was now a heap of ruins — lofty and 
expensive monuments had been razed to the 
ground, and from fragments of columns, vases, 
and statues barricades had been erected, from 
behind which the rebels had kept up a murder- 
ous fire upon the imperial troops. A long line 
of board-fence, some ten feet high, enclosing a 
garden opposite to the cemetery, was so com- 


326 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


pletely riddled by bullets, that its surface resem- 
bled that of a cullender or strainer. 

On approaching the Kaiser Thor^ whose 
massive and elegant proportions had excited 
Carroll’s admiration on his first visit, he found 
it mutilated and defaced by the galling fire of 
artillery, which had effected an entrance to the 
city. Large masses of solid granite had been 
split off from all exposed corners or mouldings, 
while the more sobd portions showed indenta- 
tions produced by the shock of the balls, in 
which the rock crumbled to a white powder, 
looked like spatterings from huge lumps of 
confectionery. 

On entering the city proper the travellers, with 
difficulty, recognized the remains of the gay, 
brilliant, and opulent metropolis, which they 
had previously known. All places of business, 
excepting those which supplied the necessaries 
of life, were closed. The streets were occupied 
by soldiers bivouacking near fires kindled in the 
centre, over which they were cooking their ra- 
tions. The foot-ways were filled with stacks 
of muskets, and the curb-stones covered with 
bundles of hay, from which horses, in long lines 
of a thousand at a time, were feeding. Carroll 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


327 


was struck by the contrast between the life, 
animation, and spirits of these unconscious ani- 
mals, and the sullen, dogged, and jaded air of 
the men who had so lately been engaged in 
scenes of blood and carnage. Passing by a 
regiment of Croats, a part of the army under the 
command of the Baron Jellachich, Carroll was 
struck by a strong resemblance between this 
savage race and some of the North American 
Indians, in whose brutal countenances one looks 
in vain for a spark of intelligence or human 
sympathy. Among the atrocities committed by 
these Croatian bloodhounds, an Austrian officer 
reports that, after the sacking of a city, he saw 
one of them draw from the pocket of his coarse 
gray overcoat a delicate and richly-jewelled 
female hand, which he had amputated in order 
to strip it at his leisure. The streets of the 
Graben had been ploughed by cannon-balls, and 
the walls and windows of its shops and dwell- 
ings grazed and perforated by the fire of mus- 
ketry and grape-shot. In some instances whole 
shop-fronts had been blown away, exposing to 
public view the rich assortment of goods within 
— protected from pillage only by a file of soldiers, 
on guard, before them 


828 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


They passed between two heaps of ruins, in 
a street which, Marshall informed Carroll, con- 
tained the house he left only three weeks ago. 
“ I fear,” said he, “ it has shared the common 
fate. No, by Jove, there it stands, the last but 
one of the block remaining. If you can spare 
five minutes, I should like to examine the 
premises.” 

Drawing from his pocket the house-key, he 
opened the door, and they found all as quiet 
and secure as if the family had just left it. 
They ascended to the first floor, and entered 
the drawing-room. The parquetted floor was 
covered with fragments of a large mirror, whose 
frame was still visible on a pier between two 
windows. A cannon-ball had struck the pier 
from the outside, making a breach through the 
wall and mirror, and, having expended its force 
on the opposite partition, had fallen to the floor 
where it lay. 

“ This is all I have to show for five hundred 
gulden which I paid for that mirror,” said Mar- 
shall, pointing to the empty frame. 

A brief examination of the other rooms 
showed that this was the extent of the dam- 
age incurred. Marshall congratulated himself 


VIENNA EEVISITED. 


329 


on his good fortune, and they continued their 
drive. A few minutes brought Carroll to Mr. 
S.’s house, where, learning that the family was 
at home, Carroll parted with his companion ; 
with a beating heart, he was ushered into the 
drawing-room — the scenes of horror and devas- 
tation through which he had passed having 
filled his mind with gloom and apprehension. 

He entered a room so darkened by closely- 
drawn curtains, that, with difficulty, he descried 
the forms of his friend S. and his wife seated 
in front of a flickering fire. 

He was chilled by the sad solemnity of their 
first greeting, after which Mrs. S. hastened out 
of the room, and Carroll eagerly inquired after 
the princess. 

“ You have not received my letters, then,” said 
S. ; “I am sorry for it — they would have pre- 
pared you for the reception of unpleasant 
news.” 

“ What news? ” asked Carroll, anxiously. 

“ Were you aware of the princess’s object in 
visiting Vienna ? ” asked S., evidently avoiding 
a direct answer to the inquiry. 

“ No ; she informed me that important busi- 
ness called her here, and I supposed it related 


330 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


to the settlement of her husband’s affairs — he 
had large estates in Austria.” 

“ It seems,” said S., speaking slowly, and 
with great calmness, “ that she came for the 
purpose of consulting an eminent physician, 
distinguished for his success in treating com- 
plaints of the heart. He gave her great encour- 
agement that her symptoms were far from dan- 
gerous; but subsequent developments proved 
that he was mistaken.” 

“ I hope,” said Carroll, in an agony of terror, 
“ that she is not seriously indisposed.” 

S. made no answer, but paced up and down 
the room, with an uncertain expression. 

‘‘ Tell me the worst. I can bear it better 
than this agony of suspense.” 

“ My poor, dear fellow ! ” said S., taking his 
hand, and pressing it warmly. 

“ Great God ! is it possible ? ” exclaimed the 
agonized lover, bursting into tears. S. made no 
remark until the paroxysms of his grief had 
subsided, when he continued, — 

“ It is a great consolation to reflect that she 
suffered no lingering pain. Her death must 
have been instantaneous. My wife left her 
in perfect apparent health and spirits, for a few 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


331 


minutes only ; on her return, she was lifeless in 
her chair.” 

Carroll was so stunned by the blow, that he 
could hardly follow the import of his friend’s 
words, as he proceeded, — 

“ She must have been aware of her danger, 
for, a day or two only previous to her death, she 
came into the library, and handed me a package. 
‘ I am aware,’ said she, in a perfectly cheerful 
tone, ‘ that my hold on life is a very uncertain 
one. I am, therefore, anxious to make some 
arrangements while I have it in my power; I 
have made them, and must request you to keep 
this package — to be opened only in the event of 
my death.’ I promised to obey her, and rallied 
her on her hasty preparations for ^o distant an 
event. On her death, I opened the package, 
and found a sealed letter to you, and one ad- 
dressed to me, in which she requested me to 
have her body hermetically sealed in a lead 
coffin, to await your disposal. Here is her 
letter to you,” said he, handing the package, 
and lighting the gas. 

A parting letter from his beloved, the last 
ever penned by her, seemed to put the mourner 
in direct communication with her departed 


332 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


spirit. He broke the seal, and read as fol- 
lows: — 

“ Caro JE^'nesto : When this reaches you the 
heart which is now beating with love and 
devotion will have ceased to beat forever. My 
physician bids me to hope; but I see despair 
written in his face. I have, accordingly, made 
a final disposition of my affairs. In my will, I 
have left to the relations of the Prince Zerlinsld 
all the property which I inherited by his decease. 
I am the last of my line, and wish that my own 
private property should go to my best and most 

beloved friend, . Inclosed, you will find two 

deeds, both properly and legally attested. One 
conveys to you my palace at Venice, and the 
other transfers to you all my stocks, funds, and 
bank accounts, which, having been executed in 
my lifetime, will save you the delay and an- 
noyance of any legal processes. Thus, my 
dear Ernest, I have given thee all. God, in his 
infinite wisdom, has decreed that we shall never 
be united on earth ; but I rest happy in the be- 
lief that we shall be wedded above. I beseech 
thee, then, dear love, forget me not. If that were 
possible, I should dread it worse than annihila- 
tion. Let me continue to live in your memory. 


VIENNA REVISITED. 


333 


Think not of me as an inhabitant of the cold 
grave ; but think of me as I appeared to thee 
in the bright, happy days of our first loves. If 
the reality of my death is forced upon thee, 
then imagine me looking down from above, 
with eyes of tenderness and interest, on all thy 
works and actions. Above all, never cease to 
love thine ever loving Sofia.” 

The tender images, called up by these touch- 
ing lines, soothed our hero’s agonized feelings. 
He remained silent for a long time, when he 
suddenly inquired where she had died. 

In my house,” said S. ; “ we insisted on her 
remaining with us, and her presence filled our 
home with a perpetual sunshine. Ah, my dear 
friend, you have lost a treasure, never to be 
replaced on earth.” 

“ And her remains ? ” asked Carroll, in a 
scarcely audible voice. 

S. silently pointed to the door of an adjoin- 
ing room. Carroll rose, and, entering, shud- 
dered to behold a coffin, shrouded by a black 
pall, occupying the centre of the chamber. He 
gently closed the door behind him, and found 
himself alone with all that remained, on earth, 
of his beloved and idolized Sofia. 


334 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


CHAPTER VI. 

CONCLUSION. 

The last scene of a drama usually brings to 
the footlights all the prominent characters of the 
play. Availing ourselves of this ingenious and 
popular contrivance, we shall briefly present to 
our readers the few personages who have played 
important parts on our little stage. 

Carroll was for a long time deeply affected 
and dejected by the loss of his beloved Sofia. 
There seemed to be a void in Nature, and it was 
long before he could realize that her sweet spirit 
had fled. He felt it a duty to bow humbly to 
the will of Providence, and by constant applica- 
tion to his art, his only mistress, he gradually 
acquired his former serenity and cheerfulness of 
temper, and his friends found him the same 
genial and social companion as before. If there 
are times when he indulges in pensive sad- 
ness, they are only in the lone hours of the 


CONCLUSION. 


335 


night, when, gazing at the stars, he dwells with 
fond regret on the memory of the beauty, grace, 
and accomplishments of the amiable Princess 
Zerlinski. 

Otway continues to be the same gentlemanly, 
kind-hearted, and sincere friend which the reader 
has invariably found him in the preceding pages. 
He has been obliged to take larger lodgings on 
account of the increased size of his collection of 
curiosities and ohjets d’art. His income is now 
nearly two thousand pounds per annum^ owing to 
the death of a near relation ; but, as he still finds 
employment in buying bargains, he is usually 
as hard up at the close of the quarter as he used 
to be with only eight hundred pounds. 

Tina now bears herself with all the stately 
dignity of Madame Mere at the head of the 
Bonapartes, probably pluming herself upon 
being the founder of a noble race of terriers, 
noted, and in great request, on account of their 
sagacity, fidelity, and purity of blood. Her 
canine memory, of course, cannot number her 
descendants extending to the third or fourth 
generation, but Otway knows them all, and 
never passes one in the street without stopping 
to bestow a caress, and to speak in certain 


336 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


wheedling tones which invariably win the dog’s 
heart, and secure him as a companion during the 
rest of his walk. His pockets are always stored 
with bits of loaf-sugar and biscuit, which he 
doles out to what he calls the members of his 
family, and it is not an unusual thing to see 
him seated on one of the benches at the Cascine, 
surrounded by a pack of ten or twelve young 
terriers, all wearing fine collars, and belonging 
to as many different masters, whom they un- 
hesitatingly desert for a little frolic and conver- 
sation with Grandpapa Otway. 

The Abate Belotti was spared the pain of 
seeing his pictures leave him piecemeal, by a 
sale of the whole collection to an English noble- 
man, who was so much pleased with them, that 
he asked for a list of prices. In order to induce 
him to make a selection of one or two, the 
Abate put them all down at the lowest prices 
for which he could think of parting with them. 
On footing up the amount, and finding it to be 
a trifle over $40,000, the purchaser agreed to 
take them all. The Abate could scarcely con- 
tain himself for joy at the idea of having such 
a fortune. He saw that he was independent for 
life, and gladly accepted the offer. When the 


CONCLUSION. 


337 


last picture was delivered, and the money de- 
posited in the Bank, the sight of his bare walls 
filled his eyes with tears of sadness. “ All his 
pretty chickens had gone at one fell swoop.” 
He lost his appetite, and fell into a melancholy 
and desponding frame of mind. His house- 
keeper, who watched him with some anxiety, 
found him one morning with his head on his 
hands leaning upon a table. “ I fear, Ser Gio- 
vanni,” said she kindly, “ that you take the loss 
of your pictures too much to heart.” “ Alas ! 
yes,” answered he, “ and very ungratefully, for 
it must be confessed that they brought an im- 
mense sum I ” So saying, he burst into tears, 
took to his bed, and died literally of a broken 
heart, occasioned by the loss of his darling pic- 
tures. 

Bruce also has departed this life. His last 
hours were comforted by a Catholic priest, who 
confessed him, and gave him absolution for his 
manifold sins, in return for a legacy of ten thou- 
sand scudi^ to be spent in masses for the benefit 
of his soul. How little comfort he received from 
the promises of pardon from his holy confessor, 
may be gathered from his response to that 
worthy, who, after giving him absolution, re- 
22 


338 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


marked, “ I trust now that you do not fear to 
meet your Creator ? ” “ Oh, no ! ” replied he, 

with a sudden start, “ Non e lui, ma quel altro 
che io temo.^^ The rest of his property went to 
a distant relation whom he had never seen. His 
body was interred at Leghorn, where he died, in 
the last place he would have chosen, in the 
English burying-ground, where it lies at no 
great distance from the grave of the witty and 
ingenious Smollett. As he can no longer enjoy 
the pleasure of looking at his much-prized Leo- 
nardo, let us hope that he has “ exchanged it for 
a palace on high.” 

Spencer, after finishing his “ Vendemmia^'* 
painted several large, pleasing, and agreeable 
pictures, which gained him great credit, not only 
in Florence, but in London, where they were 
exhibited. He has lately inherited a large for- 
tune ; has taken to himself an amiable wife, and 
passes most of his time on his estate in the 
country near London. He keeps open house and 
a generous table, around which he is fond of 
collecting his brother artists as often as possible. 
Whenever any of the former habitues of the 
“ Artists’ Corner ” at Honey’s happen to be pres- 
ent, Spencer amuses them with imaginary con- 


CONCLUSION. 


339 


versations, supposed to take place in Pur- 
gatory between Bruce and some of the old 
masters. At these conversations, the Father of 
Lies is supposed to be invisibly present, provided 
with a pair of red-hot pincers, for the purpose 
of nipping the incorrigible sinner, on the utter- 
ance of every thumper. The frequency of his 
cries of anguish, the fertility of Spencer’s inven- 
tion, and his inimitable mimicry of Bruce’s voice 
and manner, never fail to keep the table in a 
continued roar of laughter. 

Captain Plum also boasts an addition to his 
income, to the amount of six hundred pounds a 
year. This comes to him by the death of his 
wife, from whom he had separated, and had 
been obliged to settle this sum upon her. He 
congratulates himself on this piece of luck very 
much in the tone in which one would speak of 
the death of a disabled horse. In spite of his 
increased income, his purse-strings are kept 
tighter than ever. He has abandoned his old 
seat at Honey’s, for a rival coffe^ where they 
vend coffee cheaper by a crazia the cup. Con- 
sequently he gets, (as Goldoni says,) “ acqua 
calda e hrodo lungo.^^ 

The gay and volatile Count Galuzzi, seeing 


840 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


among his friends many instances of virtuous 
and happy marriages, begins to experience the 
truth of the proverb, “ II faut payer les plaisirs 
mermsr As the Marchesa grows older and less 
attractive in her person, she becomes daily more 
jealous and exacting of his attentions. The 
chains which were worn so lightly in his youth, 
have become weighty and galling. The son, in 
whom are centred all his affections, bears not 
the name of his father, but of that of his 
father’s bitterest enemy. He had the prudence 
to foresee the approach of the revolution of 
1848, and being unwilling to compromise him- 
self by taking a part on either side, spent his 
time in travelling in Egypt until the storm had 
blown over, when he returned to Florence, with 
a large addition to his fund of sprightly and 
amusing anecdote. Conversing with Carroll 
one day on the climate of Egypt, “ You can 
have no idea,” said he, “ of the power of an 
Egyptian sun! Any part of the person which 
is exposed to its rays, is soon burned to the 
color of a lobster. With a thick woollen on 
my head, enveloped in the folds of an enormous 
turban, I felt as if my brains were cooking in 
my skull, like an egg in its shell. I was in the 


CONCLUSION. 


341 


hourly expectation of exhibiting in my own per- 
son a specimen of our national dish, the fritto 
misto^ composed of fried liver and brains.” 

“ In which case,” returned Carroll, “ your 
brains, I am sure, would not require the addition 
of a sauce piquanteP 

He then congratulated the Count on his good 
health and spirits. “ Eppure la vita mi noia^^ 
was the melancholy response. “ I am often 
tempted to commit suicide, which God forbid ! ” 

Such is the fate of those who pass their lives in 
the pursuit of pleasure. The cup is soon drained, 
and the dregs at the bottom are bitter indeed. 

The Count de Poignard has kept very shy 
of English and Americans. Not being able 
entirely to forego the pleasures of bullying, he 
has fought several duels with Austrians and 
Frenchmen. He turns out not to be invincible, 
even with his favorite weapon. Having lost an 
eye, and the thumb and forefinger of his right 
hand, he consoles himself with card-playing and 
a free use of brandy and water. 

Only one character remains to be disposed 
of. We shall present him to the reader by 
means of an extract from a letter written by 
Otway in London, to Carroll in Venice: — 


342 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


“ Oq entering the cars of the railway run- 
ning from Dover to London, I took my seat 
in the dark at a window, which I opened in 
hopes to get a little fresh air. 

“ ‘ Have you any objection to closing that 
window ? ’ asked a voice next to me. 

“ ‘ Certainly not, if it incommodes you.’ 

“ ‘ I am very sorry to ask the favor, but I 
am afraid to expose myself (heated as I am) 
to a direct draught of night air. 1 take cold 
easily, and it always settles in my teeth, 
which are of a very peculiar formation.’ 

Incorrigible Holland,’ cried I, giving him 
a slap on the back, ostensibly as a friendly 
greeting, but I brought down my fist with 
such force, that I nearly knocked the breath 
out of his body. ‘ If “ the ruling passion is 
strong in death,” your last words will be some- 
thing about a quadruple tooth, armed with 
hooked, forked, and bifurcated PRONGS!’” 

Our web of mingled truth and fiction is 
woven. Our little drama is ended. 

The curtain falls, and the author listens in 
anxious suspense to learn whether his at- 
tempts to amuse and interest his audience 
meet with censure or applause. 


NOTE. 


An artistic temperament, arising from an exquisite sen- 
sibility and delicate organization of the nervous system, 
renders its possessor peculiarly liable to occasional abnor- 
mal affections of the senses, especially that of sight. 

In the autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini there are 
several curious passages relating to supernatural events 
and appearances, which have with some discredited the 
author’s veracity. There can be little or no doubt that 
he firmly believed In the evidence of his senses, which de- 
ceived him. 

A distinguished painter once related to the author an 
interesting anecdote of a singular optical delusion, which 
he had experienced. 

“ While I was painting in London,” said he, “ I was 
at one time particularly interested in the execution of 
a fancy head, on which I had wrought with great as- 
siduity for a number of days. On retiring to rest at 
night, I was in the habit of placing my picture on a 
chair opposite and near to my bed, which enabled me 
by the light of my candle, to study its effects and plan 
my next day’s work. One night on extinguishing the 
light, and turning round, to lay my head on the pillow, 
I was surprised to see it occupied by a strange head. 
I was aware that I was the subject of an optical de- 
lusion, and as the head and face were perfectly life- 


344 


ERNEST CARROLL. 


like, I examined the coloring and modelling of the fea- 
tures as coolly and carefully as if they had actually 
been there. The face was a very beautiful one, but 
bore no resemblance to any person I had ever seen. I 
was convinced it was an involuntary creation of the 
brain. I examined it for several minutes, when it suddenly 
disappeared.” 

An eminent sculptor related to the author an equally 
singular occurrence. He had passed several nights in 
great anxiety, on account of the illness of a young 
daughter. Having slept soundly for a few hours, he 
awoke at midnight, and listened attentively to hear 
if the little invalid who slept in the same room was 
reposing at ease. The room was perfectly dark. Cast- 
ing his eyes in the direction of his daughter’s bed, he 
suddenly saw a lovely female form in the air over her 
head. He said the form and color of the vision were 
as palpable as any sight he had ever witnessed by day- 
light. He watched her expression with intense interest, 
in the firm belief that he beheld a heavenly visitor. 
She slowly extended her arms in the act of benediction, 
gave a sweet and cheerful smile and vanished. The 
father’s heart was comforted from that moment, and the 
subsequent recovery of the child confirmed his previous 
belief in supernatural interpositions. 

Macbeth’s soliloquy, in which he addresses the air- 
drawn dagger, as a “ fatal vision, not sensible to feeling 
as to sight, a false creation of the heat-oppressed brain,” 
proves that the phenomena of which we have been 
speaking were as well known and observed by Shak- 
speare as any of the affections or emotions of every-day 
life, familiar to us all. 


ERNEST CARROLL, 


ARTIST-LIFE IN ITALY. 


A NOVEL 

IN THREE PARTS. 


R O 8 T O K : 

I' I < K N' ORA X n F f K r. r> S. 

iM I>CCC LIX, 






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